


Don't You Dare Be Late

by agentofvalue



Series: Don't Miss a Moment [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentofvalue/pseuds/agentofvalue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter gets a phone call on a regular Tuesday and it changes everything. Not only have they found Steve Rogers' plane after only five years, but there's a chance he's alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day had started like any other day. Like any other of the hundreds of days that had passed in the years since the war ended. The entire world had upended and her own world had upended, but now things had settled into a rhythm. Peggy Carter knew it was a cliche, but cliches become cliches for a reason. Mostly because they were true. 

Her life wasn't exactly the most conventional. She was still a field agent, dashing off on a mission every other month. She'd moved around New York and spent time on the west coast, a few other places. She'd been promoted; she was the highest ranking field agent in fact. 

But after the utter insanity of her first few months with S.S.R., things had certainly quieted down to a manageable level. Needless to say, she had not been arrested for treason again. 

So, she woke up on that average Tuesday expecting nothing more than the stack of paperwork and a lunch meeting she was dreading. That was all. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The day had passed as she had expected until she returned from the lunch. She got back to her desk and dropped her bag heavily on the top. In a single motion, she pulled off her blazer and hung it on the back of the chair. She had trekked a good distance for the unproductive meeting and had been called sweetheart on the way back, without being in a position to hit the man who had catcalled her. 

"Good, you're back," Sousa said, moving towards her, a fat folder on his hip as he leaned on his crutch. 

"If that's for me," she said, gesturing to the file, "keep walking." 

She still hadn't dealt with her paperwork from yesterday and her bad mood wasn't going to help. 

"What? No. Your phone has been ringing off the hook. I tried answering, but they hung up twice." 

She ran a quick mental checklist of who might try so desperately to reach her and only her. No one came to mind. 

"They've called ninety-four times. In total," said another agent leaning over from his desk. 

"Exactly ninety-four times?" she asked Willis. He was one of the newest and youngest agents in the department and always quick with a joke. 

"Exactly. I have been counting," he said, grinning. 

The phone rang again. 

"Ninety-five!" called Willis and then focused on his own work again. He knew when to joke and when it was not his business. Though, he was probably still listening intently. 

Peggy picked up the receiver. "Carter," she said. 

"Oh, thank heavens. At last," said the voice on the other end. 

"Mr. Jarvis?" 

Of all the people who might have been calling her so urgently Edwin Jarvis hadn't even been on the list. Stark maybe, but not Jarvis. She'd seen him whenever he was in the city, nothing like dabbling in espionage to bring friends close. Stark was usually in tow. Both men were a constant pain in the ass, but there was also great affection. They felt very much like siblings and she loved them dearly. 

"Yes, I've been trying to reach you." 

"My colleagues told me. You should've left a message. It was Sousa who picked up." 

"No, no, I can only speak to you. I’m not even supposed to be calling. No one is supposed to know. Mr. Stark is banned from the telephone because he got caught trying to call out. He feels you should be here." 

Ah, so Stark was involved. Of course, he was. "About what? I don't understand." 

"They found a plane, Miss Carter." 

If she was anyone other than a battle-tested, elite S.S.R. agent, Peggy might have fainted. The receiver hit the desk with a loud crash and half the office looked around. She collapsed into her chair. She didn't remember letting go of the phone or deciding to sit. Her world had bottomed out. The floor was gone. 

It was so wildly out of the blue. It was just a random Tuesday. There was no context, but she had known exactly what Jarvis meant. Not a normal plane; someone had found the plane. The plane that had crashed with Steve Rogers aboard. The plane that had taken her love to the bottom of the sea.

They had searched. Stark had been chasing an energy signature, which had narrowed the area. When he found the source of the energy and no wreckage, suddenly the area was back to the size of a literal ocean. They had had no choice. 

She realized Jarvis was still on the line. His tiny, far away voice yelling from the abandoned receiver. She snatched it up again. "Yes, I'm here. Sorry. When did they find it?" 

"A few days ago." 

"Where?" 

"North. They've taken him to a facility in Canada." 

"It's been five years. I didn't think we'd ever find him." 

"They still haven't found the Titanic, right?" he said. 

"Exactly." Only loosely following the train of thought. She was distracted by thoughts of the last time she had seen Steve. She was lost in another time and another place and a monumental task she was undertaking. She would bring him home. His grave in Arlington was an empty memorial. He deserved to be laid to rest. She hadn’t been able to save him, to keep him safe, but she would do this for him. 

"Miss Carter?" asked Jarvis, and she realized he had been speaking. 

"Yes?" 

"There's something else." 

"Did you tell her?" interrupted Stark's voice in the background. 

"I hadn't the chance. Sir, get out. They are going to—" said Jarvis. There was scuffling. "You should not be here, sir!" Now Jarvis was in the background. 

"I need to tell her. You won't. You don't believe me," Stark said. 

"Believe what?" Peggy practically shouted to get their attention. 

"He's alive."

That was wishful thinking. She didn't believe it. Not for a second. Or so her brain told her. The plane had sat for five years at the bottom of the bloody ocean, yet Stark thought Steve might still be alive. The ego on that man; as if his invention could stop death. 

"Put Jarvis back on the phone!" yelled Peggy. "That's cruel, Howard. A sick joke." 

"It's not a joke. I wouldn't—"

"Put Jarvis back on!" 

It wasn't like Peggy had expected him to be alive. Steve was gone. She had said goodbye many times already. Every time he left for a mission, it might have been the last. She had kissed him just before he leapt to the plane and watched it fly away. She had listened to his voice for the last time over the radio. She had been to his memorial service in Washington D.C. She had stood on the Brooklyn Bridge and said goodbye in a way she thought Steve would have wanted. The honors, the crowds, the salutes had been for Captain America. Steve had deserved every last one of them, but he wouldn't have wanted them. He would always be the quiet, shy, skinny man she had first met. Steve wouldn't have liked all the attention. 

The bridge had been her personal goodbye. She thought it was over, a memory, a great what if. She couldn't help thinking of him time and again, but she couldn't continue waiting for something that couldn't happen. She kept the wound covered and let it heal as best it could. Stark had ripped off the bandage and poked it with something sharp. It wasn't fair. 

Every person in the office was staring. She was shouting after all and yelling names everyone recognized. She felt every single gaze like a bullet. Her greatest desire was for Stark to be right, and a close second was to be alone in this moment. 

There was more shuffling on the phone again and she heard Jarvis' calmer voice. "I'm here, Miss Carter." 

"He isn't serious, is he?" she asked. 

"He thinks he is. I don't know the science. It's all too far over my head. He believes it." 

"What do you think?" 

"There seems to be a chance. I trust him. Do you?" 

"I don't know." 

"I think you should still be here." 

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." 

The conversation didn't last much longer; only enough for Jarvis to give her their location and the number for one of Stark's pilots. Then, they said goodbye. 

Peggy hung up. She looked at Sousa who was still standing in front of her desk as if bracing for something. 

"Carter?" he said. 

"Stark found a plane," she said quietly. Even more aware of all the extra attention. "It's Captain America's. I have to go." She didn't trust Stark enough to say that Steve might be alive. That was still just madness. 

Sousa didn't stop her as she brushed passed and into the chief's office. Thompson had left for bigger and better things about three years ago. Their new chief was a man called Ben Tracey. He had very dark, though thinning hair and tanned skin that always made him look as if he’d just come back from a beach vacation. He was a big man who had played American football in college. He was strict, but always fair and had treated Peggy with respected from the minute they shook hands. It was under his example had she stopped being The Woman. 

She entered his office and closed the door behind her. He looked expectantly up at her, his hands folded on his desk. She stood like a soldier awaiting orders in front of him. 

"What's going on?" he said in a deep tone. 

"I'm being called away," she said. 

"Oh, really?" 

"Stark found a plane, sir. It's Captain Rogers'. I need to be there."

"I'm not really authorized. This doesn't exactly sound like an official request." 

"Stark is flying me out. I am only asking for the time." 

"I don't know. I can give you your vacation days, but those are limited. I can't have you disappearing for an unknown amount of time, even for Captain America." 

"The S.S.R. should be there. You could assign me. We started this and I should be there to finish it. I can get them to send a request when I get there. Please, sir." 

"I can't just send my agents to God knows where. You have responsibilities here." 

Tracey was really saying no. She didn't fight the tears building. She was too tired already. Exhausted from giving herself even a second of hope. Still, she didn't turn into a sobbing mess. Her back was straight, her jaw set, and she didn't look away. The Chief's face splintered as the tears blurred her vision. 

"I had a responsibility to him. I must finish my mission. Let me bring him home," said Peggy. 

Tracey looked at her for a long moment and then sighed. "All right." 

"Thank you." It hadn't been intentional, but she was grateful for her own tears. It worked every time. 

"It's vacation days until I get a request."

"Yes, sir." 

"You can go now." 

She nodded once and left, not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind or for her to change hers. She returned to her desk and grabbed her purse before wordlessly heading to the exit. There were still stares following her, but she ignored them. She moved through the bank of operators and into the waiting elevator. It took a moment to realize someone was calling after her. The elevator doors were inches away from closing when she reacted. She hit a button, and they rattled open again to reveal Sousa, holding her jacket. He slipped in beside her and handed it to her. The doors closed. 

"Thanks," she said. 

"You're going right now?" he asked. 

"I have to. I need to be there." 

The elevator stopped on the ground floor. She got off while Sousa didn't move. 

"Be safe," he said. 

She waved and then left the telephone company to catch a taxi to her apartment. 

Fifteen minutes later, Peggy was entering her four-story, brick building. She had a little two-bedroom on the second floor, emphasis on the word little. She'd moved around a lot, but this was her favorite of her apartments, excluding the year she'd lived in Stark's penthouse with Angie. That had been the most fun between having Angie around and run of the palace-like space. It had ended too soon with her post in Los Angeles. Angie had come with her to pursue a career in film, but the tiny two bedroom wasn’t the same. 

She headed up the stairs and unlocked her door. The living room and kitchen formed a single common space. Shaped in a perfect square, the kitchen counter, cabinets, and appliances were along one wall. On one side of the square was the door to her bedroom and on the other a door to a much smaller bedroom she mostly used as an office, and her private bathroom. The furniture was comfortable and cozy. Because she was home so rarely it cycled through cluttered and spotless. It wasn't much, but she felt it was the height of luxury for a single woman married to her work. 

She dashed around the apartment gathering a few things. She wrote a note for the little girl next door who watered her plants while she was gone. They had a standing arrangement. Peggy only had to slip the note under the door and she would pay Hannah ten cents a day when she got back. She unplugged the toaster and was ready to go. An hour later she was boarding one of Stark's private jets and heading north. 

She tried to sleep on the plane, but it wouldn't come. She wasn't fully awake either. The lights in the cabin were dimmed, and she dozed, making time either crawl second by second or jump in great chunks. She was alone with her thoughts. They chased themselves around her mind. 

Just to focus on something else for even a few minutes, she got up and changed out of her skirt, jacket and heels. While covering herself behind one of the seats, she put on trousers, a heavy sweater, and combat boots. She emptied the rest of her go bag out and organized things a little better. She left her service weapon and a small utility knife where they were easily accessible. 

"You think it's going to be that bad?" the pilot asked. 

She hadn't realized he had been looking at her. His name was Henry. He was a small, black man with bright eyes and a shaved head. He'd been a pilot during the war. He still wore a bomber jacket when he flew. 

"You never know," she said, slipping at least her small twenty-two out of sight. "This isn't exactly a sanctioned mission. I hope Stark didn't mislead you." 

"No, no, he told me I might be risking life and limb, but he makes it worth the risk." He rubbed his fingers together in a sign for money. "He didn't exactly tell me why he needed you up here so badly." 

"I shouldn't say. Sorry." 

"This pretty much the quietest Stark has ever been on a subject. He usually drops so many hints you'd have to be a simpleton not to figure it out. Today, he only said bring one Agent Carter to the North Pole." 

"We're not going that far, are we?" 

"Nearly." He smirked. 

"He really said nothing else?" 

"Didn't even mention you were a woman." 

That was unlike Stark. It seemed like he was actually taking his task seriously. Delusions of Steve being alive notwithstanding. 

She moved closer to the pilot's seat and talked with him for a while. He was focused on flying, so as long as she didn't mind waiting for him to answer, the conversation came easily. 

Finally, he told her it was time to land. "It'll be rough," he added. 

She moved to the back and belted in. 

Rough was an understatement. As they descended the cloud cover, the wind kicked up. Even Peggy, who was used to flying in cargo holds, felt every bump and jostle. Henry started yelling over the radio. She only heard half the conversation, but he evidently wasn't being given permission to land. 

He did it anyway. 

"Be prepared to get in trouble," he added when the yelling stopped. "I'd say there will be armed guards waiting for us." He stopped talking to focus on the landing. 

The snowy landscape had stretched on forever before they landed, but from the ground the windows showed nothing but white. She had seen a tiny town from the air, but now only the thin outline of the buildings were visible. 

"They're going to want to board," Henry said. Half a dozen dark shapes bobbing through the snow. "I sure hope Mr. Stark can offer as much protection as he claims," he added. 

"I'm hoping the same thing," she said. 

"You’ll be treated a bit more gently than I will. I think." 

He had point. She got up from her seat and positioned herself in front of the door. 

"Is there warmer clothing?" 

He gestured to the compartment above her. She yanked it open and pulled out an anorak. It was black and made of a heavy, slick material with a thick lining of synthetic fur around the hood. No doubt the latest technology and the highest quality. 

"Agent Carter, what are you doing?" 

"Meet a challenge head on," she said and slipped on the coat. 

There wasn’t time to look for anything else, so she pushed open the plane's door and leaped down onto the packed snow. The pilot usually would have extended a set of stairs. The muzzles of six weapons being held by six Marines, dressed from head to toe in snow gear, greeted her. Even their faces were covered behind scarves and goggles. 

The weather wasn't as wild as she expected, but she was still undressed even in the coat. The wind seemed to snake into even the smallest gaps in her clothing. Her hands seemed to freeze immediately. Her curls blew in every direction, but she kept her hood down. They needed to see her face. 

"S.S.R. Agent Margaret Carter," she yelled above the wind. "I need to see your commanding officer at once." 

One of the Marines motioned with a rifle and she marched forward. Half the group fell into position around her, queen of the ice with her armed guard. She glanced over her shoulder to see Henry in another one of Stark's coats standing in the doorway of the plane. He glanced at the three remaining Marines advancing towards the plane and then he looked to her. They made eye contact for a long moment. Both seeming to ask the other if they were okay. Both answers were yes. For now. Henry pulled the door shut before the Marines reached him. Peggy focused her attention ahead of her.

They led her to what looked like the town's version of a hospital, deposited her in an empty examination room, and said nothing else. She peeled off the jacket. Now she was out of the elements, it was uncomfortably warm. She tried the door, and it wasn't locked. Even if it was, one hairpin and she could get out, but where would she go? She needed someone to come talk to her. 

There was a tap at the door and she turned. There was no one at the little window set into the door. She moved closer and peered into the hallway. Crouching below her sightline was Jarvis. 

"What are you doing?" she hissed. 

He motioned and crept away, practically crab-walking down the hallway. He looked ridiculous, but she still followed. She was a little more practiced at sneaking around. She hugged the walls and ducked around the windows. 

The building was shaped like an L. They continued to walk like this until they reached the bend in the corridor. Stark was waiting. Jarvis finally stood up and pulled on the edges of his suit to straighten it as nothing had happened. 

"It's good to see you, Peg," Stark said and hugged her. 

"You too. Both of you," she said. "What's going on?" 

"I'm in some trouble for calling you," said Stark. 

"Me too," said Jarvis. 

"We aren't supposed to see you. They're trying to figure out how to send you straight back." 

"I'm not leaving without him," she said.

"God help the man who tries, especially after you see him," said Stark. "The serum. It worked. He's alive." 

"No," she said stubbornly. "He can't be. It's not possible, Howard. Even Captain America needs to eat, to breath. He's was at the bottom of the ocean for years." 

He took her hands in his. "Not at the bottom of the ocean. He was trapped in ice. The deep freeze saved him. We'll melt that popsicle and he should be all right."

It was only Jarvis’ quick movement that kept Peggy from decking Stark. She’d swung but he’d grabbed her. Stark held up his hands in surrender from behind Jarvis’ protection. 

“Take it easy. It was a joke,” Stark said, laughing. 

“You need to show a little respect,” ordered Peggy, pointing furiously over Jarvis’ shoulder. “He gave his life to save us.” 

“And we’ll all have a good laugh about it with Cap in a little while.” 

“Stop saying that! He’s gone," she said as Jarvis let her go.

"Peggy, listen," Stark said. "I'm sure you think this is wishful thinking. But there's science. It's not crazy. The serum is in every cell of his body. It would have kept him alive, for days, for a year, for five. He'd be all right after seventy years. It doesn't matter." 

Her heart banged against her ribcage so hard it almost hurt. Her brain was screaming at her, telling her it wasn't possible, telling her this was only going to cause pain. Though, her heart soared. She did believe him. Or at least she wanted to. She wanted there to be a chance. 

"I need proof," she said. 

"We can do that." 

Peggy looked at Jarvis. He would be the voice of reason. She and Stark were both too invested in this. It was almost hard to see straight the longing was so strong. He made a face that said, 'See for yourself.' 

Both men gestured to the door next to them. She hadn't been paying much attention to where they were. There was a sign hanging from the ceiling that read, 'Surgery.' 

She took a few tentative steps through the door and into a room where the surgeons would wash before a procedure. There was a second door, and she paused there. She didn't believe him. Even Captain America couldn't survive all this time. It just wasn't possible. But she wanted it to be. She wanted it so badly. She took a deep breath and made the final step. 

In the room was an enormous hyperbaric chamber. There was a window running the length of the contraption amid all the pipes and valves and monitors. Steve Rogers' body filled the space. He didn't look dead, but he also didn't look alive. He was statuesque still half buried in ice. Literally frozen in time with ash from his last fight still on his cheek and his lips slightly parted. 

She felt herself falling. It was too much to take in. People didn't come back from this; it wasn't possible. Death was a hardline, a full stop. No one came back from that. He had been dead. Lost to the ocean and to the casualties of war. She had loved and lost him. The edges of her vision seemed to go dark. Was she going to faint this time? She'd been knocked out. Concussed one time by a particularly idiotic and over enthusiastic recruit. That had been a hit then darkness and then several days in the medical wing at Camp Leigh. This was slipping sideways into nothing. 

There was no one there to catch her. He would have caught her. If Steve had been awake, he would have taken her up in his powerful arms. But he wasn't here. He hadn't been here in a long time. It had been five years since she had heard his voice over the radio and now another distant voice was telling her it did not have to be that way anymore. 

She put a hand on the glass to steady herself. It covered most of his face, so she pulled it away again because she couldn't stop staring. 

Stark had followed her in. He went to the machine and flipped a switch. One monitor sprang to life. She'd seen heart monitors before. Spikes that took up entire screens. They jumped and leaped with energy and vigor. This one, the one attached to the chamber, seemed to hover rather than bounce, but it moved steadily across the screen. It wasn't much, but it was something. There was no mistaking it for a sign of life. 

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. "He's alive?" 

"He's far away, but alive. And I can get him back." 

"Alive," she repeated. 

"Howard Stark!" yelled a voice, cutting across the moment. 

The man pushed his way through the door. He was dressed in a uniform. When he stopped in front of them, she noticed he was almost exactly her height, so she looked him directly in the eye. He had shocking red hair and too many freckles over his pale skin to count, which contrasted with the stony expression he also wore. 

"Out now! Both of you!" he said. 

"Just checking the mechanics," said Stark too casually. 

"Out!" 

Peggy was closer, and he grabbed her arm. With a quick movement, she shoved him off. She moved her back foot to get better purchase in case he tried anything else. She was ready. 

"I didn't mean to grab you, ma’am. This one," he pointed at Stark, "is on his last warning and I took it out on you." 

Peggy started him down. 

"I'm Lieutenant Caro," he said. 

"Agent Peggy Carter," she said. 

"I know. You aren't authorized to be here. You aren't even authorized to know about it." 

"Well, I do, so let me help." 

"You're better off getting right back on Stark's fancy private jet." 

"I need her, LT," said Stark. 

"Like you need a butler," Caro said. 

"I was on the front line with Captain Rogers during the war." She was so tired of having to explain this to people, to men in particular. 

"I was given an overview of your record." 

"She has every right to be here. More right than me," said Stark. "She should've been the first call." 

Caro almost laughed. "Military protocol has nothing to do with rights. This is mad science. It belongs to Dr. Frankenstein, not to a field agent. I question my own involvement, but I have orders." 

"S.S.R. is a science division. He has always been under our jurisdiction," said Peggy. 

"But you're not a scientist." 

"I'm a liaison. I wasn't a scientist on the original project either." 

"You're making excuses. Don't deny what this is really about." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I said I was given an overview of your history. From what I hear, this is personal." 

"You owe her an—" began Stark. 

She spoke over Stark as her fists balled at her sides. "I was meant to protect Ste—Captain Rogers during the war and I failed. You can't expect me to walk away now. I'm not some silly woman. I have proven myself time and again."

"Not to me," said Caro coldly. 

She was gearing up for a fight, but Stark interrupted her this time. "I need this lady's smile. Cap is about to wake up a new world and I need a familiar face." 

"You knew him. You made him," said Caro. 

"Are we friends? Sure. But I need someone who he trusts implicitly. He will look at Agent Carter and he won’t panic. He's not going to think 'oh God something went horribly wrong' or 'what did Stark do to me this time?' He will hopefully stay calm because that's what I need. Have you ever brought a man back from stasis? Because I sure haven't done it before and if I haven't done it before I don't think you have. We're in uncharted waters, but I can tell you calm is better in ninety percent of situations. Don't you think?" Stark said all this quickly, hardly taking a breath. 

Now Stark had paused, Caro could only nod. Stark had beat him. Caro couldn't explain away that argument. He wasn't a scientist either. 

He cleared his throat; he wasn't happy. "Fine. If are you important to Stark's objective, then you are important to this mission. Let me know if you need anything. I'll do my best to get it for you." 

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"Excuse me. I have paperwork to take care of." He headed back the way he had come. 

"Thanks," Peggy said quietly to Stark. 

"I didn't do anything. It's the truth. You should be here and I need you." 

She looked back at the window, at Steve's face. "What's the plan?" 

"We take him home. We take him back to New York."


	2. Chapter 2

The door opened as a nurse shuffled in, and Peggy woke with a start. She'd tucked herself away in a storage closet slash on-call room. Most of the room was filled with shelves, but there was a bunk bed with just bare, plastic mattresses. It wasn't comfortable, but it was close. 

"Sorry to wake you," said the nurse. Her name was Rose Anthony. She was tiny and blonde with fair skin and rosy cheeks to match her name. She was stocky too. Peggy doubted she had any problems handling anything the patients—or the doctors—threw at her. 

"I wasn't sleeping," said Peggy thought she wasn't fooling anyone. 

"Of course not." 

Peggy smiled and shook her head. Her lack of sleep had been a joke with Rose since the first day. It was Rose who had showed her the on-call room. Peggy had become friendly with most of the staff on the floor of the private research hospital where they'd brought Steve. 

A few weren't so welcoming. They called her the guard dog. They didn't know she knew about the nickname, or she thought it an accurate description. She hardly left Steve's side in almost a month and she hardly allowed any test or examine or procedure to happen without her there to supervise. It didn't matter she didn't quite understand the science. She got the gist: frozen, not dead. There was still a lot of work to bring him back, but he wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. 

They'd only spent a few days in the tiny Canadian town because it didn't have the resources they needed. Stark had brought everything but the kitchen sink with him and still it wasn't enough. 

When they returned to New York, Steve was still in the hyperbaric chamber. Stark said he needed to be kept frozen until they could control the situation better. There had been many complicated medical and scientific procedures that followed. They'd put him in a clean room in a vat of antifreeze solution and raised the temperature painfully slow. The baths were changed to various compositions. A very experimental heart and lung machine was put in place about halfway through the thaw to pump his blood and breathe for him. 

She hadn't been allowed in the room for the first few weeks, so she watched him from behind glass. To be honest, it all scared her. The machines were big and intimidating and made awful sounds. Every once in a while a valve would let out a bang and a hiss like a radiator. It made her jump every time, and she wasn't the type of person who startled easily. It made her think about the odds this would work. They were good odds, Stark said, but he was a betting man. 

Though he was still heavily sedated, Steve had been moved into a private room nearly a week ago. At last out of the ice, but still not awake. Stark had been promising for days to wean him off the machines and medications. But nothing had happened yet. That scared Peggy too. Perhaps worst of all. To have come this far and to lose it all again. The odds were still very slim. 

"Is today the day?" asked Rose. 

Peggy shrugged. "Everyone keeps saying soon, soon, soon. I don't understand enough of the science to question it." 

"Me neither," Rose said. "I know the vitals are good and the machines are working. That is a good sign." 

Peggy nodded. 

The truth was no one could say for sure what being frozen for five years would do to a person. Everything about Steve and what the serum had done to him was new. All signs said he would be okay, but everyone was being justifiably cautious. It felt like she had done nothing but wait since Jarvis had called her.

"Stark is looking for you," Rose said, turning to find whatever she had come into the storage closet to get. 

Peggy sighed. She was so tired. She didn't know if she had the strength to deal with his energy. 

"You can stay here. I won't say I saw you." 

"Nobody would believe I had left." 

"Fair point. See you later." She left. 

Peggy got off the bunk. There was a little mirror on the back of the door and she hunched to see her reflection. It wasn't as bad as she was expecting. It was almost hard to tell she had been sleeping, or she hadn't been home in twenty-four hours. She tried to smooth a few wrinkles from her navy skirt and then re-tucked in her white blouse. She pinned her hair again and applied a quick coat of lipstick. Dropping the tube back into her purse, she squared her shoulders and went to find Stark. 

She didn't see him. She paused outside Steve's room. It was always hard not to stare though she'd been looking at him for days. He was laid out on the hospital bed neatly tucked under the sheets. IVs ran from both arms and the leads from the heart and lung machine snaked from beneath the hospital gown. There were tubes in his mouth to keep him breathing with a big mask attached to it. One of the tubes was a feeding tube. It was hard to see Steve underneath all the medical equipment and even harder to imagine it was Captain America. But he was there. Blond hair smoothed down and powerful muscles taut under his skin. 

As she stood there staring, Stark seemed to pop out of nowhere. "Team meeting," he said. 

He led the way down the hall to where Doctor Diaz was already waiting. Diaz was the medical lead on the revival team. He was a good physician, but his bedside manner left a little to be desired especially because he had no patience for Peggy. He saw her as being under foot and she was fairly certain the guard dog nickname had started with him. Even now, he eyed her almost suspiciously. 

"In what capacity is she here?" he asked without offering a greeting. 

"Character witness," said Stark without hesitating. 

Diaz sighed but didn't argue. 

"We need to discuss how to handle a full return to consciousness," Stark said. 

"What do you mean?" asked Peggy. 

"It's going to be a rude awakening. He's been asleep for a long time," Diaz said seriously. 

"It might be a stock, but I don't think it's anything we need to prepare for," she said. 

"I recommend we take the room back a few years and make it look like an army hospital," Diaz continued without acknowledging Peggy. "Put him in a uniform. Let him wake up alone and give him a moment to acclimate before springing what year it is on him." 

"That's an idea," said Stark. "Ease him in." 

"You're both underestimating him," Peggy said firmly. "There doesn't need to be a gimmick. Just be honest with him. If he sees familiar faces, and he knows he's not in any danger, I'd think he'll be fine. We don't have to trick him." 

"Can you imagine what it would be like to wake up five years in the future? The world has changed so much," Diaz said. 

"Of course I can't."

"Agent Carter was on the front line with Cap during the war," Stark said. "It's why I wanted her here. She knows what he's like in extreme situations." 

Diaz looked surprised as if even though he'd seen her around the hospital all this time he hadn't actually bothered to figure out who she was. 

"He can handle it," she said firmly. 

"Leave him as is?" Stark asked. 

"That's what I would do." 

Stark considered her for a moment. He nodded. "Then, we're ready." 

"What?" she and Diaz said at the same time. 

"There's still a few things to work out, but fortune favors the bold." 

The knot in her stomach tightened. It had been there since Stark had said Steve was alive. She was still so terrified it wouldn't work. Waiting had been near torture, but at least in limbo there was yeses or nos. 

"It's not going to be a fast process," he said. "Sit tight." 

It was now. It was really happening. He would be back or he wouldn't. Stark had spelled out what would happen next over a week ago. They would take Steve off the machines one by one. First would be the blood pump. The doctors would shock his heart back into rhythm. She'd seen that done in the field; it wasn't pretty. 

If—no—when that worked, they would take out the breathing tube. That didn't sound pleasant either. She didn't want to watch any of it because she didn't want those memories in her head. She didn't want to see him go through it. However, she also would not let there be any chance of Steve opening his eyes and her not being there. 

The two men hurried off, and she went back into Steve's room. She took the chair by the bed, where she had spent most of the last few weeks. 

Steve's hand lay on top of the sheets within reach. She'd been hesitant to touch him. It wasn't only the machines that frightened her. She was a little bit afraid of him too. He was so much greater than she could have imagined. She knew the man, and she had witnessed the hero in action, but this, this was something else. To survive against literally every odd. He was a true superhero. 

Yet, he was also just Steve. He was the skinny man from Brooklyn who had fumbled over his words when he was around women, who hadn't known what fondue was, who had kept a photo of her in his compass. That was the man she had loved once. It was as if the serum was meant for him alone. Only Steve Rogers was good enough, of a strong enough character, of strong enough willpower to tolerate it. 

Activity seemed to swirl around Peggy as she sat. It seemed like everyone involved had been waiting for someone else to say it was time to wake Steve. Doctors and scientists alike had been posed for action the past few weeks now sprang to life. No one bothered Peggy; they were all too used to her presence. 

The room began to fill with doctors and nurses. Then, Stark entered. He gave her one look and she realized it was time. She rose from the chair and leaned over Steve’s bed. Despite the other people in the room and despite her fears, she kissed him gently on the forehead. 

"Come back to me," she whispered.

She started to move away when she noticed a smudge from her lipstick. She paused to wipe it away. 

It was hard to say if she had ever been more scared in her entire life. She had poured all her hope into this one thing knowing there was a chance it wouldn't work. She doubted she would make it if it didn't. There was only so much heartbreak a girl could take. It had changed her the first time; it would break her if she lost him again. If this failed—she didn't even dare to finish the sentence in her head. It had to work. It just had to. He was Captain America. He had survived worst than this. He was strong enough. He had to be. 

She watched a doctor pounding on his chest. She saw how violently his body jerked when they sent jolts of electricity through it. She had her doubts. She had never doubted him before. 

" _Come back to me_ ," she thought. 

Again they shocked him. Again the heart monitor had the wrong the readings. Again a doctor began CPR to keep Steve going. Sweat was beading on the doctor's forehead. He was giving it everything he had to save her love. 

" _Come back to me_."

She stayed silent in the back of the room. Half of her wanted to run and the other half wanted to scream. Despite what she logically knew, it looked more like they were beating him rather than saving him. She wanted them to stop. She kept quiet. If she caused anyone to get distracted for even a second, she would never forgive herself. She didn't matter. It didn't matter that she wanted to cry and yell and be sick or that her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest. She would need to be resuscitated if this lasted much longer. 

" _Don't come all this way to leave me now_." 

They shocked him again and as if someone had heard her silent prayer, the rhythm on the monitor changed. They were a collective sigh of relief. The area around the bed was still a flurry of activity, but something had changed. 

Stark moved to the back of the room beside her. 

"It's a good sign," he said. "Practically out of the woods." 

"If only." 

"That was the hardest part. Basically, we jumped started his body." 

"I know." 

"Like turning over the ignition. The engine will do the rest." 

While Stark hadn't used the particular metaphor before, he had explained it to her already. "I know." 

"You have nothing to worry about." 

"I know." 

"He'll—" 

"Stark, please. I know you're trying to reassure me, but worrying is rather unavoidable at the moment." 

"All right." 

The doctors had started the process of removing the breathing tube. She wanted all her attention on them as if somehow that might help. 

"I need this to work too," said Stark quietly. 

She was about to retort, but the pained look on his face stopped her. She knew Stark harbored a great deal of guilt for the way it ended. He felt responsible for all of it. By his own admission, he considered the serum his greatest success and, inversely, losing Steve a tragedy. They were friends too. 

She was so wrapped up in what this meant for her, she hadn't thought. She had been so consumed, she had hardly realized the effect it had on him. 

"Howard, I'm sorry. I didn't meant to snap," she said. "I know what Steve means to you." 

"We'll both get something back." 

"I hope so." 

Suddenly, the room stilled. The doctors and nurses all stopped working at once. Peggy's heart skipped a beat. Steve's heart monitor beside the bed was jumping with life. The breathing tube was out. His heart beat; he breathed in and out. All on his own. 

"That's it," said Diaz. 

He and his colleagues gave a few weary handshakes, congratulating each other on good, hard work. Stark bounded forward to perform his own examination. Peggy stayed unmoving at the back. She couldn't believe it. 

For the first time, Steve looked like he was only sleeping. The machines were gone. He looked exactly as he had the last time she's seen him though he was not in his uniform. He was beautiful. 

Tentatively, she moved closer to the bed and stood at the foot. 

There was still one more step. He needed to actually wake up. His body was here, but no one could be sure about his mind. Would he be the same? Would he have all his memories? There were still a few questions. 

"What now?" she asked. 

"We wait," said Diaz. 

There was a rustling among the onlookers. They were impatient. Good, she wanted them to leave. The whole world could disappear right now and she would be fine as long as it was just Steve and her. 

He sighed. "We all need to rest. He'll be monitored. Everyone out." 

"I'm staying," Peggy said. 

"Of course you are." 

"We'd expect nothing less," said Stark in a much nicer tone. He gestured to the chair as if it were a throne. 

She sat, grateful not to have to rely on her own legs to keep her stand up. The rest of the group filed out. Even Stark left without saying much. She would stay on guard as she had for the last weeks. 

She waited in silence. She was hardly alone for long. Nurse Anthony, various doctors popped in and out. Stark came back and sat with her a while, but he couldn't sit still for long. Every time the room quieted again, she could hear Steve breathing. 

One hour passed, then two. She needed to stretch her legs, go to the bathroom, find something to eat, and find something to read. She stood up and leaned over him again. She unnecessarily brushed a few locks of hair away from his forehead. His skin felt warm, truly alive for the first time. 

"I'll be right back," she said. 

His head moved towards her voice. It was so slight she might have imagined it. Was she wishing too hard? 

"Steve?" she said. The question was an echo. For a startling moment, she wasn't in a hospital room; she was in a control tower asking the same question and not expecting a response. 

This time was different. He moved again, more pointedly in her direction. She grabbed for his hand. 

"Steve?" she repeated. 

He sighed from deep within his drugged sleep. 

"Can you hear me, Steve? It's Peggy."

His eyes fluttered and closed again. 

She spoke again with a little more force. "Captain Rogers, open your eyes." 

He listened. His eyes opened wide, but it took far too long for them to focus. He was still groggy, to say the least. His gaze found her. Her heart hammered in her chest. Nothing could stop the smile that spread across her face or the happy tears in her eyes. 

"My darling, it's Peggy. I'm here," she said and her voice cracked. "You're in New York. You're home."

He looked at her and relief rolled off him. 

"Did I miss the dance?" he said in a croaky whisper. It was hard to make out the words. 

She squeezed his hand. "Yes, you're terribly late." 

"Sorry," he said. 

"It's fine. It's fine." She pulled his hand closer so it rested against her tear streaked cheek. He responded to the gesture with a small smile. "You're here now. That's what matters." 

He propped himself up a little against his pillowed. She had to let go of his hand to help him and then sat back down with her elbows leaning on the mattress. 

"Take it easy," she said. "You've been through a lot. Let me get the doctors." She pressed the call button. 

"Yes?" asked Rose's voice over the intercom. 

"He's awake," Peggy simply said into the receiver and then focused on Steve again. 

"Where I am?" he asked, gazing around the room. His voice already sounded stronger. 

"In a hospital in New York," Peggy said. "You're home. Well, Manhattan, not Brooklyn." 

"America? Is the war over?" Steve asked with a frown of confusion. "How did I get here?" 

"Yes, the war is over," she said, only answering one of his questions. 

"That's good. Who won?" 

"We did, Steve. Thanks, in part, to you. You saved a lot of lives that day." 

The footsteps came running from down the hall. Stark, Diaz, and Rose stopped dead in the doorway. Steve looked them up and down, but turned back to Peggy. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. 

"How long ago was that day?" he asked. 

The others collectively sucked in a breath. Apparently, as it had been her idea to just come out with it, it was also her job to tell him. She wouldn't sugar coat it or mollify him. Diaz squirmed. She had a better idea of what Steve was capable of. She had been there from day one. She had seen him jump on a grenade, and step into the pod, and him jump from planes, and run headlong into a fight. 

"It's been about five years," she said and braced for the fall out. 

"Damn," Steve said and closed his eyes for a moment. 

"It took us a while to find you," she said. 

"How am I alive?" 

"That's a question for Stark," she said, not caring he was in the room and listening to their conversation. No one had interrupted so far. "It’s the serum." 

He sighed in a way she didn't think had anything to do with anything physical. He seemed tired, something she couldn't remember seeing before. Maybe a little after Barnes had died. Or after the Kozlov mission. 

She remembered how the two of them waited for a ride for six hours in the freezing cold in Russia. Their concerns over hypothermia were so great that they both had stayed awake instead of taking shifts, huddling together in a handmade lean-to in the wilds. By the time they were smuggled back to safety, they had been awake for about eighty hours. They rolled back into camp and almost at once fell asleep on the softest piles of supplies they could find, tangled in each other and still in their combat gear. 

She laced her fingers in between his again. 

"I thought you were dead," she continued. "The whole world did. Words can't describe what it's like to be talking you again." 

"It's good to see you too. I like the new hair." 

She unconsciously tucked a curl behind her ear. Her hair was longer than it had been during the war. She had forgotten that. Somehow the detail hit her hard in the pit of her stomach. She took a steadying breath, but her eyes must be shining again. 

"You haven't changed at all." 

He smiled, but then leaned his head back against the pillow. 

"You need to rest," she said. 

"I've been resting," he said, sitting up a little more. "I've been dead. Oh, God."

She squeezed his hand again. "Don't think of it like that. You're back. That's all that matters." 

"I'm sorry. It was so—" 

"Don't. You're here. The rest doesn't matter," she said in a low voice. 

He was getting worked up. She read it on this face and in the sound of the heart monitor. Stark said he needed to stay calm. She reached up and put her free hand against his cheek. He leaned into the touch. 

"How long?" he asked again. 

"Five years." 

"You're sure?" 

"Fairly certain." 

He smiled, but she saw some of her own pain reflected in his blue eyes. It was the ache of separation. 

Stark stepped forward. "Hiya, Cap. How are you feeling?" 

Peggy let go. She had almost forgotten they weren't alone. 

Steve cleared his throat. "Fine. I guess." 

"Amazing," Stark said. 

"That's not possible," said Diaz also coming forward. 

They did another examine with Peggy off to the side pretending she wasn't staring. His hospital gown fell down to his waist as they checked his lungs. Steve was herculean, chiseled, without a single mark to show what he had been through. She enjoyed the view, but she stared because he should be scarred and scraped. There should be something that showed, well, something. He looked as he had on the day he emerged from the pod. Diaz was right, it wasn't possible. 

It was Rose who chased them all out after the examination proved Steve was more or less fine. Even Steve protested, but she insisted he rest. Peggy was sure he would fall asleep as soon as they left. 

The revival team, including Peggy, left him to sleep. They all stood in the hallway a bit stunned. Caro was waiting right outside the door. Everyone else waiting at the nurses' station, pressed close to the monitors. 

"He needs to be debriefed," Caro said. 

"He needs to rest," said Rose and Peggy at the same time. 

He didn't argue with both fierce women. "Tomorrow then." 

"When he's up for it," said Peggy. "He's been through a lot." 

"This is so much more than I ever hoped for. There are still sedatives in his system, but other than that he's perfectly fine. I bet he could swim across the Hudson River right now." 

"Not on my watch," Rose said. "He needs to sleep, and he needs to be left alone for a while. He'll be monitored. None of you are needed. I will call if anything changes." 

No one argued with Nurse Anthony. 

"Let's all get some sleep," said Stark. 

"Including you, Carter," added Caro. 

She didn't want to leave. "Is that an order, sir?" 

"Does it have to be?" 

"Yes."

"Agent Carter, you are ordered to go home until nine tomorrow morning. I don't want to see you back here before then. Understood?" 

"Yes, sir." 

She didn't head home right away. Caro didn't say exactly when she had to leave. However, he caught her fairly quickly and had her marched from the building. 

She went back to her apartment. She was too filled with unnamable energy to even sit on the subway. It was excitement and fear and confidence and hesitation all at once. She stepped through her door, kicked off her shoes, and reached for the phone. There was only one person she wanted to talk to. She dialed a familiar number. Angie picked up after the second ring. Just the sound of her voice was a comfort. 

"Angie, it's me," Peggy said. "You have time to talk?" 

"English! Of course I do," she said without hesitation. "Gosh, it's been a long time." 

Peggy imagined Angie picking up the phone and draping herself over the little green settee in the bright California apartment they had shared under Peggy was called back to New York. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I've been away for a while. How are you?" 

"You know me, I'm always good. I start a new movie next week. I've worked with this director before, so it'll be a nice to have the rapport already."

"Listen to you, like an old hand."

Angie made an offended noise. "Don't say old around a Hollywood actress. You should know better." 

They both laughed. Angie was always good for a laugh. Nothing seemed as heavy when she was around. Peggy was so proud of her friend and her success, but she also missed Angie terribly. Never more than when she had a decision to make. Angie was nothing if not the practical voice of reason. 

"What’s going on with you?” Angie asked. 

"I don't know where to start." 

"What? Everything okay? Don't leave a girl hanging." 

"Do you remember my fallen soldier?" said Peggy. 

Angie knew about Steve and probably knew more than anyone else. The story had unfolded slowly during their time living together. One late night talk, Peggy had admitted losing someone during the war. They'd hashed the topic over and over again always with Peggy leaving out a few key details until one night they'd finished a bottle of whiskey. 

It was only then Peggy said her love had been Captain America. Angie had known every other detail; Peggy had said his name by accident. It was the only time in her entire career she had let something slip by mistake. Peggy was mortified and Angie had sworn up and down she would tell no one. He'd earned the code name fallen soldier. Just as being away meant being on a mission. Peggy was still supposed to pretend to work for the phone company even with her closest friends. 

"Of course. You don't forget something like that," Angie said. 

"This is another secret, Ang. You can't breathe word. Promise me."

"Yeah, of course." 

"They found him and he's alive."

The line went silent. "You're joking, right?" Angie said after the long pause. 

"I'm not. I was just with him and he's fine. He's alive and healthy." 

"How is that possible?" 

"He's Captain America." It wasn't a real answer, but it was all she had. 

"Goddamn, that's incredible." 

"I don't know what to do."

"Nonsense. You know exactly what to do. You have a second chance, Peggy. It's not something you pass up. He was—is—something special from what you've told me. What you had was special. A great love. It's something out of the movies. You jump into that with both feet. I wish we’re all so lucky." 

It was a relief to have a second opinion agree with her. Someone she trusted beyond any doubt was giving her permission to make the choice she wanted to make. There was no ambivalence in the way Angie was talking. The answer was as clear to her as it was to Peggy. Go for it. Do it. Jump in. It was what she wanted, but it was still scary. She knew what losing him felt like. 

Peggy suddenly broke down. Tears she had only let shine in her eyes over the past month spilled over uncontrollably. Angie patiently listened to Peggy cry. She made no demands; she just waited for the storm to pass. 

Peggy sniffed and regained a little control. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to me." 

"Nothing in the world, honey. You just let it out."

"I wish you were here." 

"Me too." 

Another sniff. "I missed him so much. They're tears of joy. I promise," Peggy said. 

"Of course you're happy. Soldiers don't come back from the dead very often. You made a good life for yourself without him, but you don't have to anymore." 

"It's incredible, isn't it?" 

"About the most extraordinary thing I've ever heard." 

It was late when she finally hung up. She and Angie always had a lot to talk about, and with the three hour time difference their conversations stretched past midnight for Peggy. When she fell into bed at last, she was too tired to even think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Part 3 is nearly done, so stay tuned. Thanks to wandamaxmioff on Tumblr for being a super beta reader.


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy slept deeply and woke up confused. It took a few seconds to recognize her own bedroom. She had spent many long stretches of time away from home. It had been less than two days since she was last in her apartment yet it seemed different. It felt like someone else's. The woman who lived here didn’t have Steve. 

It was well past nine o'clock, the time Lieutenant Caro told her to stay home. In fact, it was well past noon. She could go back to the hospital right away, but she stayed in bed for a little while longer. She was tired. Bone weary as her father would have said. The kind of tired that was emotional and physical. The kind of tired that comes from sitting at a bedside of a loved one when you don't know if they were going to wake up. 

She hadn't left his side for a month. Last time, Caro gave her the order to go home, she had been waiting in the lobby for half an hour before the front desk would let her up. Steve was awake now. She should want to rush back to him. Now was the time she was needed most, but she hesitated. 

She was nervous for what might come next. She had constructed a fantasy all on her own. She knew he had felt something for her, but they had met under extreme circumstance. Who could say what it would be like in the real world? She could think of only a few times when they had talked about much else besides strategy. A rare stolen moment was used for other things. 

She had loved and mourned a man she hadn't known much about. She knew his character and that mattered most, but they hadn't had the time or the place to get to know the little details. What were his likes and dislikes? Did he drink tea or coffee? Where was his favorite place? What had his parents been like? She couldn't answer any of these questions and he probably couldn't answer them for her. 

If they were to give a relationship a chance, it would immediately be serious. Their feelings had been intense before. She could still taste their last kiss. Even now when she thought of it, her fingers traced her lips, remembering. 

Could anything live up to that? Would she be okay if it didn't? 

She had to get up. Steve would be waiting. Regardless of how she felt, a friend needed her and she would be there. 

Peggy willed herself out of bed to get ready. She put on a simple green dress, a little makeup, and then pinned her hair up. She had been too tired to put the curlers in the night before so she needed extra bobby pins. Satisfied she looked more put together than she felt, she headed for the subway to take the now very familiar ride to the hospital. 

The officer behind the desk waved her through without the need for conversation. She went to the third floor and into Steve's room with more assuredness than she was really feeling. She was stunned at the way he was sitting up and appeared completely normal. Even the IVs had been removed. There was a tray of rather bland lunch on his lap. He looked up as soon as he heard her heels on the floor. He looked relieved again and she forgot about all her nerves. 

"Hi," he said. 

"Hi," she said back. "How are you feeling?" 

"I feel fine. They won't let me out of bed." 

She stopped at the end of his bed. "It's hard to imagine you could be fine after what you've been through. I think the whole team is being cautious." 

"You've seen me after worse. Maybe you could tell them." 

"Steve, we thought you were dead. For five years. There's nothing worse." 

He looked at his plate. "I was an idiot. It shouldn't have ended like that." 

"There wasn't exactly time to do anything else." 

"I was reckless." 

"We all were. We had to be." 

He glanced up. "But honestly, Peggy, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to put anyone through that. Especially not you."

She moved closer and sat in the chair. Now she wasn't able to look him in the eyes. "I survived. And somehow so did you. You're back. You have a second chance." She stopped short of saying 'we have a second chance.' 

"That’s going to be so much paperwork,” he said with half a smile. “How was the funeral?

"There's a grave in Arlington with the shield carved into the headstone. The service was very moving. The President came. You would haven't hated it." 

"Lots of people?" 

"Thousands." 

"At least you got to meet the President." 

"Actually no. Colonel Phillips and I sat in the back. No one could know the S.S.R. was involved."

He didn't seem to have anything to say to that. He pushed the food around with a fork unenthusiastically. She decided at that moment to let him set the pace. For now, she would be whatever he needed without any strings attached. And right now it looked like he needed a distraction. 

"Not hungry?" she asked. 

"I wish it tasted like something. I haven't had anything but military rations in forever and this is the first thing I get back in the States." He sounds so forlorn. 

"How about pizza?" 

She practically saw his spirit brighten. "I had that in Italy. It was the best substitute for rations.” 

“All the soldiers wanted it when they got back. It’s been a hit since the end of the war.” 

“I would do anything for a piece. Could you sneak one in?" 

"Or we could get one." 

He cocked his head. "Agent Carter, what are you suggesting?" 

"A jailbreak." She was already on her feet. 

"I don't have anything to wear but the hospital gown." 

"I'll see what I can do." 

She slipped into the hallway and went immediately to find Rose, who was sorting supplies by the nurses' station. 

"You got here late," Rose said as Peggy approached. 

"Overslept," Peggy admitted. 

"I guess Captain Rogers is not the only one who needs to recuperate." 

"I think what he needs is to get out of here" 

"And?" Clearly, she knew what Peggy was getting at. 

She lowered her voice. "I need an accomplice to help break him out." 

Rose stopped her work and actually looked at Peggy. "You're crazy." 

"Probably. We're not going far. We'll be back in an hour." 

"I can't help. You might convince me to turn a blind eye, but I won't help." 

"He needs clothes. He's fine—you know that. The problem is it's not real. He's hearing everyone tell him it's been five years, but it's hard to process. I think he needs to see it for himself." She spun the line quickly. 

"Oh okay. Save the explanation for Caro. If you aren't back in exactly an hour I'm calling the police to report two escaped mental patients." 

Peggy laughed but guessed Rose was serious. She followed Rose to the large, industrial laundry in the basement. Not only would it provide the clothes Steve needed, but Rose also showed her a back door the staff left propped for smoke breaks. 

They dug through one of the dryers and found tan pants from a Marine service uniform and a plain white t-shirt. Shoes were the hardest part. When they gave up in the laundry, Rose stood guard outside one of the men's locker rooms while Peggy swiped a pair of dusty Converse sneakers from an unlocked locker. The shoes were probably going to be too small. They split up before reaching Steve's room so they wouldn't be seen together. 

Steve lit up again when she returned with the clothing. 

"Are you really breaking me out?" he asked. 

"For an hour. One of the nurses showed me a route through the laundry."

She passed over the clothes and then, with all the seriousness of a real mission, Peggy stood watch at the door, peering through the little window as he changed under the sheets. She fought the urge to peek back at him every few seconds. She looked away just in time to keep from getting caught. He got up and moved around the bed. He seemed even more like himself. She was staring again. 

"The shoes are too small," he said. 

"It was the best I could do. Whoever had locker sixteen will learn to actually lock it." 

"You didn't?" 

She smiled up at him. "We'll bring them back." 

He smiled but shook his head. He came forward so he could also see out of the window. He was inches away from her. She was very aware of how close he was. 

"Do we have to go past the nurses' station?" he said. 

She had to concentrate to remember what her plan had been. "There's a staircase to the left. It's the next door. You go first." 

She stepped aside so he could get to the door. He paused again making sure the coast was clear and then darted into the hall. She heard stairwell door close and then followed a little too giddy to actually be stealthy. 

"Where to next?" he asked when they were safely out of sight in the stairwell. 

She motioned downwards and this time he followed her. The stairs opened directly into the laundry room. He covered his ears to block out some of the roaring of the machines. There was an orderly folding linens, but he barely glanced up. He certainly didn't recognize the escaping patient. Peggy pushed open the door to the back alley, careful not to disturb the old brick being used to keep it open. 

Steve stepped out behind her and took a deep breath. It smelled like a dirty alley to her, but he sighed like it was Queen Mary's garden. They cut through to the street, but he paused before they reached the sidewalk. He looked around the corner of the building. 

"Are you all right?" she asked. 

"Yeah. I guess. No flying cars." 

"Stark has one that sort of hovers." 

"I know. I saw it the night I was recruited." 

"Maybe he'll give you a ride." 

"I'm not desperate for flying cars. It looks the same. I thought something would be different." 

"Like what?" 

"I'm not sure." 

She waited until he was ready to move and then they joined the thin crowd of people on the sidewalk and headed uptown. 

"I’ve been here since the end of the war. I can’t think of anything you can see that had changed. Maybe a new building or something," she said. 

"You live here?" 

"I do. I have an apartment a few blocks off of Houston."

He laughed. "You must live here. You didn't say it like Houston, Texas."

She couldn’t help but feel like he approved and she couldn't help how much that affected her. "I learn quickly. I only made the mistake once." 

"What do you do here?" 

"I'm still an S.S.R. agent. I've worked out of the New York office since the end of the war. With a few breaks here and there. I'm on special assignment under Caro at the moment, though." 

They talked about the city and the things she had noticed had changed in the five years she lived there. He was so easy to be around. They almost walked past the pizza place; they were so engrossed in their conversation. 

It was a big place that occupied a corner of a building in Little Italy. The letters on the red awnings read Lombardi's Pizza. 

"It’s famous. One of the first in New York," she said. "And I've been walking by it every day for weeks." 

"You've been waiting that long for me to wake up?" 

"I waited a lot longer than that," she said and went inside before he had a chance to respond. 

She got two cheese slices on paper plates and they sat at a long counter to eat. 

"Careful. It's hot," she said as she placed one of the plates in front of him. 

He took an enormous bite of the greasy slice and immediately slapped a hand to his chest. Peggy grabbed his arm; she thought he was dying. What had she done? She had rushed him. She should've have listened to the doctors. She'd been so reckless. Dear God, she’d killed him. 

"Steve, darling, what's the matter?" she gasped. "Can you speak?" 

"It's just so good," he said with a large amount of food in his mouth. 

She let go of the vice-like grip on his bicep and hit him with the back of her hand. "Don't do that. You scared me." 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said, but he was laughing. "It's just," he took another monster bite, "so good." 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, you bastard. It's not appealing." 

He swallowed. "It's been rations for so long." 

"I remember." 

"What did you have when you came back?" 

"Anything sweet I could get my hands on." 

"You have a sweet tooth?" 

"I suppose." 

He nodded. 

"Are you saving that fact for later?" she asked. 

"I guess." 

Her face grew warm and she bit her lip. Steve wolfed down the rest of his pizza and then she gave him most of her slice too. The butterflies in her stomach didn't leave much room. It was so silly. No one made her feel this way. It was so effortless and thrilling to be here with him. Complicated and simple. 

She had not been alone all this time. In different ways, her partners had all expected too much from her. Angie teased her about her suitors. 

"Someone is always in love with you, English," she had said once and Peggy hadn't forgotten. 

"They think they are," Peggy had retorted. "They love the idea. The reality is I'm gone more than I'm home. I will never be there to cook them dinner or iron their shirts. Nor do I have any interest in that. Who would?" 

They complained and were disappointed. They asked her to stay. They had rolled their eyes when she said she had to leave on a mission. Not a single one of the men she had dated had fully understood how important her work was. They all had seemed to expect her to drop everything just to be their lover. She wouldn’t have it. None of them had been worth it. But suddenly there was someone who was worth it and she already knew he would never even ask. 

“ _I love this man_ ,” she thought and it came as a relief. There was also calmness in knowing her own mind. She wouldn't admit it out loud until he was ready, but she would have an answer when he was. Less than an hour since he was back in her life and she knew. 

She loathed to do it, but she checked her watch. The responsibilities pulled at the back of her mind. She wasn't here for herself. 

"We have to go back," she said. "Our accomplice said she'd grass if we weren't back in an hour." 

“Grass?” 

“She said she’d tell.” 

They headed back towards the hospital. They didn't talk as much on the way back, but it was a comfortable silence. He took her hand for the last few blocks. Their fingers intertwine again. His palm was hot and even a little sweaty, but in a nervous, charming way, like he had been trying to work up the nerve to hold her hand for the entire walk. 

They slipped back into the alley and he let go of her hand to open the door for her. They did not sneak in nearly as well as they had managed their escape. Two Marines were talking with the orderly from before. Peggy and Steve froze. She couldn't hear was the others were saying over the machines, but the orderly casually pointed. The Marines turned as one. 

The two of them and the two Marines formed a triangle with the entrance to the stairwell. Both parties had an equal amount of space to clear, but the Marines had to go around the folding table. 

"Captain! Wait!" said one of them. 

"Run!" yelled Steve and grabbed her hand again. 

Steve reached the stairs and barreled through while pulling Peggy along. They raced up one level and crashed through the door. Steve let go of her and leaned all his weight on the handle. It shook a few times and she heard a voice say, "It's locked. We have to go back." 

They waited a few more seconds before going back into the stairwell to keep out of sight. She looked up at Steve and burst out laughing. 

"We got caught," he said. 

"No, I got caught. I'm going to be in so much trouble. No one is going to be upset with you." 

"Then I'll tell them it was my idea." 

"That might work." 

Neither of them moved. She had promised herself she wouldn’t be the first, but oh God, he was so close. He had to set the pace. This wasn’t up to her. He had been awake less than a day. It was selfish for her to even be thinking about this. It was like a drug. She was feeding off his closeness. It had been five years since had tasted him. She wanted him so badly. Five years since… 

He started to lean down. He reached for her. 

A door on the floor above them banged open. They leaped apart as if there had been an explosion. 

“Agent Carter!” bellowed Caro. The sound echoed off the walls. “I know you are in there! Get up here now.” 

They exchanged worried looks. 

“Remember it was all my idea,” said Steve. 

They went up on more flight and back to Steve's room. There seemed to be dozens of people there. Diaz, Caro, Stark, a host of Marines, and Rose trying not to look like she'd been involved. 

Caro was tapping his black boot impatiently. Yes, it would certainly be Peggy who got in trouble for their excursion. "What the hell were you thinking? Where did you take him?"

"Don't yell at the lady," said Stark. 

"Don't tell me what to do, Stark," snapped Caro. "I asked you a question, Agent." 

"We went for a slice of pizza," she said. 

"I don't appreciate the lip." 

"She's not being smart, sir," Steve said. "I didn't want the hospital food because all I can remember is rations. It was my idea. Peggy tried to stop me."

"Oh yes, Rogers, you found a set of clothes in your room and she couldn't alert anyone in the time it took you to change and find a back exit." 

Steve spread his arms in exaggerated surprise. "It's what happened."

It wasn't as if Caro could prove that hadn't happened. He make a frustrated noise and pointed at Steve. "You! I can't give you orders, but I strongly suggest you listen to the doctors. I can still report you." Then he pointed to Peggy. She fought the urge to grab his finger and break it. "Don't push it." 

"Yes, sir," she answered. 

As Marines stood down and the hallway cleared, Stark sidled over. "Sounds like it was his idea the same way it was his idea to fly into enemy territory and jump out of a plane."

"A bit," said Steve. 

"She's a bad influence this one," Stark said and winked at Peggy. 

"Another wink at me and I'll hit you," she said. 

“Again,” added Stark. 

"Again?" asked Steve. 

"Too many times to count," Stark said, pretending to massage his jaw. "You might want to stay away from her." 

"I think I'll keep her around." 

She shook her head at both of them, but her cheeks were warm. 

The rest of the day passed with a good deal of confusion. There was no clear reason to keep Steve in the hospital. He would need to be monitored, but no one could justify keeping him in bed. He wouldn't have listened even if they tried. 

That meant there was the question of where to put him. They needed somewhere secret and secure. Steve hadn't been debriefed and, therefore, the higher-ups hadn't been brief so no one knew what was happening next. Stark suggested one of his residences, but that didn't seem to stick. 

They had commandeered a doctor’s lounge at the end of the hall while they waited. Steve, Peggy, and Stark spread out on the more comfortable chairs. They gave Steve a history lesson, which ranged from international events, to Stark’s newer inventions, to a mention of Peggy’s love life—which earned Stark a smack—to the arrests for treason when Stark’s inventions went missing, to sports news, and then back to actual news. It was a mess and probably no help to Steve at all. 

At last, the decision came down that there would be no decision. Diaz wasn’t ready to discharge Steve yet, so he would spending at least one more night in the hospital to be monitored.

After that announcement, Stark had Jarvis bring over dinner. As soon as the plates were empty, Diaz swooped down and ordered Steve to go get some rest. She was fairly sure he was only trying to be controlling, but she didn't say anything. 

Diaz gave Steve permission to go outside to say goodnight, so the four of them trooped to the front door. Steve was still wearing the stolen clothes and the too small shoes. 

While they waited for Jarvis to get the car, she noticed Steve shifting from one foot to another. 

“The shoes?” she asked with a smile. 

“Yeah, they rub.” 

“You’ll have to sign them when you give them back.” 

“I might just keep them. I don’t have anything else. I guess my apartment is long gone,” said Steve. 

“You’re a little late on the rent,” Stark answered. 

“What happened to my stuff?” 

“In storage in Washington DC.” 

“You thought I was dead. What was the point of that?” 

“There was talks of building a memorial with a little museum. Someone was supposed to go through it. ” 

“Who got that job?” said Steve and wrinkled his nose. 

“I did,” said Peggy. “I never could bring myself to do it, though.” 

Stark looked away at once. He knew he was intruding. 

The car pulled up at that moment and saved them from really having to dig into that topic on the curb. 

Before he got into the car, Stark took Peggy aside for a moment. "You know I was most worried about how he would handle waking up in the future. I never doubted that he would wake up. What you did today was perfect," he said, practically in her ear so Steve wouldn't hear. 

She smiled at him. "Thanks."

"I should listen to you more often." 

"I couldn't agree more." 

“Sure I can’t offer you a ride?” 

“I’m all right.” 

He kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight, Peg." 

"'Night." 

Stark slid into the back seat and waved. Jarvis pulled away and Peggy and Steve were left alone again. 

"Do you need a cab?" he asked. 

"I take the subway." 

"You really are a New Yorker." 

"Walk me to the station?" 

"Will that doctor let me?" 

"Diaz. He's an ass." She sighed. "Maybe you better not push it." She said the last phrase in an American accent. 

"That's pretty good." 

"My father and I used to practice together when I was little. He was very theatrical. It's a practical skill now." 

"I've never heard you talk about your family before." 

“There was never time before.” 

He didn't answer. They stood together for a moment in silence. 

"I should be getting home," she said. 

She took a step towards him for a hug. She had half expected him to pull her close in a grand gesture, like something out of the cinema. She had felt that before in the stairwell too. Instead, there was an awkward second where he didn’t know which way to lean. He let go of the hug too quickly. Then, he looked as though he was going to try to kiss her. It was all wrong. It felt rushed. 

She turned her head and stepped back a little. He immediately looked at his shoes. He seemed very small again. 

"Oh Gosh, I'm sorry. I thought..." he mumbled. "Is it Stark?" 

It took a moment for her to realize what he was asking. Her and Stark? Together? "Christ, of course not. Never." 

He looked up again. "Oh. I thought the way…just now." 

"We've been allies for a long time. We're close, but he's a wanker. Never.”

"I see." 

She pushed his chin up with the tips of her fingers. "Don't read into this. Let's land on our feet first. There are some things to figure out. We both need that. Okay?" 

Complicated and simple. 

"Okay." 

"I’ll be back tomorrow. Good night." 

"Good night, Peggy." 

She left him on the front walkway, though when she looked back at the corner, he was still watching her. She smiled to herself. 

In the morning, she tried to go by the hospital but was told Steve wasn't there. Behind the desk was one of the Marines they had ditched in the laundry the day before. He took great pleasure in telling her he couldn't tell her where Steve had gone or when he would be back. 

She wasn't about to face a day with nothing to do. So, she went to the office. She put up with the jokes about her sudden departure and return, and Tracey's stern look, and got started on catching up. 

She stopped at the grocery store on the way home and made it back to her apartment laden with shopping bags. There had been nothing unspoiled when she had last checked. It was time for her to get back to her routine. 

The phone was ringing inside her apartment as she unlocked the door. She rushed to pick it up. Only two reasons for the line usually rang. She had spoken to Angie yesterday and work only ever seemed to call at around four o'clock in the morning. 

"Carter?"

"Um, hi. It's Steve." 

"Oh hello." 

"I hope you don't mind me calling you at home. I got the number to the S.S.R. office, but the agent who answered said you'd left. He gave me your home number. I hope that's okay." 

"Of course. I'm glad to hear from you. I missed you today." 

"I missed you too," he said softly. 

"Where are you?" 

"They took me to DC. I’m briefing the president personally tomorrow." 

"So, you got to meet him after all." 

"I guess. It's been a long day." 

"What happened?" 

He sighed. "A lot of talking. And everything is a little different. It's so strange. I envisioned the end of the war differently. It’s not even the way things were before it started. In some ways I think it would've been easier if everything was completely different. I think I know what's going on and it's not quite right. The flying cars would have been easier." 

"You don't mean that. You already missed so much." 

"No, I guess I don't." He paused. "I'm just tired." 

"It's a lot to take in. What are you doing now?" 

"They put me up in some fancy hotel. I'm registered as Roger Stevens.”

“Very clever.”

“They shelled out for Captain America." 

"You should order some very expensive room service." 

"They're paying for the phone call." 

"Do you know when you'll be back?" 

"They don't really tell you much." 

"No, they usually don't." She didn't really know who 'they' were. He needed someone to talk to and she would be there for him. 

"How was your day?" he asked at last. 

She told him about getting to the hospital and finding him gone. Then about going back to work. Nothing much had happened since yesterday. Still, it was a gift to just to talk about their days. 

The conversation petered out and Peggy admitted she hadn't had any dinner yet. 

"What are you talking to me for?" he said. "You must be starving. I didn't even mean to keep you this long. I'm hanging up now."

"Don't! It's so good to hear your voice." She practically felt him blush through the phone. 

"I wasn't sure after what you said yesterday if it would be okay." 

"My darling, that is not what I meant. I want to take it slow. So much has happened. That's all. I'm always right here."

"Good, 'cause I don't think I can do this without you." 

"You don't have to. You'll never have to." 

"I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

"I'd like that. Good night." 

"Good night, Peggy." 

She heard the click on the end of the line but held the phone to her chest before putting it down. The butterflies were gone already. In their place was a deep sense of calm. She felt better after talking to him. She had uprooted her life for him without any guarantees and she was not afraid. He was all the comfort in the world to her. 

She ate a hurried dinner and went to bed with something like a warm fire burning in her chest. Even her dreams were pleasant though she could not say what they had been about in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days found Peggy getting back into her routine. Work, home for dinner and then a call from Steve. His stay in Washington DC was extended and then extended again. He had little to say about what he was doing, mostly giving briefings, and meeting people, and planning what to do about the grand reveal. She ached to be there with him; she had always been there to help him navigate these kind of things. It was personal and professional. It had been part of her job to see the shy man underneath the Captain America facade. 

Their nightly calls brought a new intimacy between them. They filled in the gaps. They talked about everything and nothing. She learned about how his parents had both died when he was young and how Bucky had become his family. She learned that he didn’t like tea or coffee and besides, the caffeine didn’t affect him anymore. She learned he used to be allergic to strawberries before the serum and that he still wasn’t entirely used to his new body. She told him about growing up in London. She told him how much she hated raw tomatoes. It was another cliche, but she fell a little more in love with every conversation. 

She went to work every morning. It was the first time in a month that the days of the week mattered. That was the hardest thing to readjust to. The rest of it felt more like it was the way it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be in love and in love with Steve. They were both supposed to be working for the S.S.R. and that meant they were supposed to be going off on missions, which meant time apart. But no more than necessary, Peggy decided. 

So, on the Friday afternoon after he had been away for two weeks, she boarded a train bound for Washington. It had been decided there would be a press conference to announce Captain America's return. Without a war to fight, he had admitted to her he'd rather the character stay dead, but he would do his duty. It would be another victory for the Allies. 

The trip was long enough to get some paperwork done and spend a good deal of time gazing out the window. When she arrived, it wasn't Steve waiting for her as planned, but a man in front of a town car with a sign that read 'Carter.' 

She gave her name to the driver as she approached. He was a thin, gangly man with dark skin and hunched shoulders that would make him half a foot taller if he stood up straight. He wore a jet-black suit and tie, and a cap that matched the car except for the lack of shine. 

"Welcome to DC, ma'am," he said. 

"Thank you,” she said. “If you don't mind me saying, you aren't who I was expecting." 

"Yes, I was told." He straightened his tie. "The conference time changed to accommodate a few officials' schedules. I’ll take you straight there." 

He opened the car door for her and took her suitcase and briefcase before she slid inside. They cruised through the DC streets as she tried to think if she'd been to the city since Steve's funeral. That was one of the strangest thoughts she had ever had. It had been the worst day of her life because it had been the end of her last hope. 

It was the day she had finally accepted he was gone. She had sat with Colonel Phillips and listened to eulogy after eulogy about how wonderful and brave and heroic Steve was and they were all in the past tense. They spoke about the loss and they hadn't really known him. She had known him and he had left her behind. She broke down halfway through and Phillips pretended he didn't notice. Just as he had pretended he didn't know the exact nature of her and Steve's relationship. 

That day and this one conflicted in her mind. It made little sense that she was on her way to watch the announcement that Captain America was alive. The rest of the country would be feeling the same as her right now. They would be excited and a little shocked too. She was one of the few people who didn't care Captain America was back. She only wanted Steve and a single dance at the Stork Club. 

The car stopped in front of a government building and the driver hopped out to open the door for her. The place seemed deserted. She came close to asking if this was the right place, but he seemed confident. 

She went through a brass revolving door and into a wide lobby. Four women were gathered behind a marble desk. They were also listening closely to a radio at its lowest volume. As Peggy approached, they all looked up and seemed annoyed at the interruption despite their professional smiles. 

“I’m Agent Carter. I’m here for the press conference. I take it I'm in the right place?” 

“The conference has started,” said a brunette. “This way." The woman came around the desk and Peggy followed down a long carpeted hallway. 

The building was bigger than it appeared from the outside. The ceilings were high and arching with crown molding on every corner. The hall was lined with doors that seemed to lead to ballrooms and enormous flower arrangements on tables positioned in between each of the doorways. 

At the very end of the hall were a set of double doors behind which sounded like the buzzing of hundreds of bees. The woman gestured and then hurried away back to whatever was on the radio. Probably the press conference. 

Peggy pushed the door open just wide enough to slip inside. The noise doubled, tripled even. There may have once been a seat saved for her somewhere, but it had long been taken by at least three people. The room was packed with reporters and photographers with large cameras. Every reporter was calling out questions, and every photographer was the clicking a camera shutter. All the attention was aimed towards a stage at the front of the room. A man Peggy didn't recognize was standing at a podium and waving his arms trying to get the room to quiet. It wasn't effective. 

"Enough!" yelled Caro, stepping onto the stage from a hidden wing. "You'll listen to the man, or you're all leaving." 

The crowd quieted to a dull hum. The man at the podium seemed satisfied. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said. Caro nodded and stepped back again, but still within sight. The speaker cleared his throat. "Now, I know this is hard to believe. We all thought he was dead. We were all at the funeral. He was a shining beacon during the war. The country lost a hero that day. I guess all I can say is Captain America is more incredible than we imagined." 

The reports hardly responded. They wanted the proof. 

He continued, "We are not taking questions at this time. Captain Rogers will come out in a minute to make a short statement. He is still recovering. Yes, even Captain America needs to recover from coming back from the brink of death. Without further ado, Captain America." 

Steve stepped out from the same wing Caro had come from. They had him back in his Captain America uniform from mask to red boots. It was the combat version, but it was shiny, new. Meant for this return from the fighting. He’d never got the chance to wear it. He held the shield, of course, battered and scraped from use. That, at least, was real; they’d pulled it from the plane. 

He gave a small wave to the crowd, and the room erupted again. En masse, every person in the room surged towards the stage as if they all forgot they were on assignment and have turned into fanatics. The noise tripled again. 

Steve's eyes went wide, and he stood staring. Even with all those performances during the war, she doubted he had even had a crowd with so much zeal. It was overwhelming from the back of the room. It was hard to imagine what it was like with all that energy directed towards him. More Marines, led by Caro, trooped out to push the crowd further away from the stage. 

Peggy was the only one who stayed put. There was now a few feet of space between herself and the back of the crowd. As Steve scanned the multitude, he spotted her. She smiled and waved. He smiled back. Her stomach flipped over. He straightened his shoulders and walked to the podium. 

Steve placed a small index card in front of him and read, "This is not a trick. I promise. I was not in hiding. I was not on a mission or trying to lure some enemy out of hiding with news of my death. My plane did crash into the Arctic Sea. I was missing in action and presumed dead. I have no memories of what came next, but the combination of my unique physiology and the freezing temperatures allowed my body and my mind to be preserved for these past five years. I find it as incredible as you do. I woke up in a hospital a few weeks ago thinking we were still at war and no time had passed. I was pleased to find at least the former was no longer true. I will be making public appearances, but in the meantime, I would hope you respect my privacy as I continue to recuperate and adjust to this bright future. Thank you."

Short and to the point. Of course he wanted everyone to know it hadn't been a lie. She smiled to herself. He was the most magnificent thing. 

As soon as it was clear he was finished, the volume spiked again. He gave a few more waves, posed with the shield. Then, he shuffled off stage. She saw him say something to one of the Marines on the end of the line. Both men looked in her direction. The Marine nodded and Steve disappeared into the shadows. The Marine cut around the outside of the room until he reached her. 

"Captain Rogers requested you be brought backstage," he said over the calls of the reports, who were still shouting for Steve to come back. 

He led the way towards the front of the room and as they reached the tightest knot of reporters he positioned himself as a barrier. She pushed to the stage. A second Marine offer her a hand to help her onto the stage. She took it because it meant most of his body blocked her face from the photographers. No need to have her face splashed on the front of all the newspapers in the country and probably half the world too. She went behind the curtains and indeed a few reports yelled, "Miss! Miss!" 

She ignored them. 

The wing led to a door that opened directly to a bare hallway. The door closed behind her and the sounded dampened. The passage, cinderblock walls, and a dull grey floor, stretched endlessly in both directions. Perhaps the whole block was connected by underground tunnels. 

Half-way down was a group of people with Steve at the center. There were too many eyes for her to do what she really wanted to do, which was to run to him. It was almost hard to look at him in his uniform. As if seeing him alive didn't stir enough old memories, the uniform really brought it all rushing back. It was as if she was watching the old news films or as if she really was in the past. Part of her brain was still telling her this wasn't possible. 

He waved again. The rest of the group parted to make room to include her. They looked like the officials and their aids. They were all grey-haired men in expensive suits and they were all probably from congress or some other very important person. She didn't look closely enough to noticed. She didn't care who they were if she was being honest. 

Steve introduced her. They said polite hellos, but seemed far more interested in Steve's shield which was now being passed around. No one recognized her name. 

"I'm glad you made it. They wouldn't wait," he said. 

"It's okay. I saw the important part." 

"What'd you think of the speech?" 

"It was good. Perfectly you." 

"Is that a good thing?" 

"Of course!" 

He gave her another smile, but more in an I'm-not-so-sure-about-that way. He got dragged back into the conversations until they started talking about some sporting event that had happened six months ago, so he was promptly pushed out again. Peggy waited as patiently as she could. 

He looked down at her and mouthed sorry. 

"When can we leave?" Peggy asked, below the sound of the other's talking. 

He pulled at his collar. "Soon. They want photo ops with the senators." 

"The driver you sent his waiting." 

"Tempting. Why don't you go to the hotel and get settled?" 

"I came to see you." 

"Okay," said the man who had announced Steve appearing from the stage door. "Photos! The room as been cleared, so we'll do them on the stage. We have busy schedules so Nixon and Lehman will go first. We'll do a couple shaking hands, with, and without the shield. How does that sound?" 

The senators all nodded. No one seemed to be asking Steve. They moved towards the door again. 

“Who are you, beautiful?” said the man, putting his hand on her back and leaning in. 

Peggy shrugged him off. “Agent Carter,” she said coolly and hoping he understood what kind of agent she was. 

“Ah, the plus one,” he said and losing interest immediately. 

He swept away to fuss over the senators. Back in the main room, she settled in the front row to watch. Steve put on a good face. Smiling, laughing, looking as if the person he had been shaking hands with was saying something interesting, all on command. She thought she was the only one who noticed how tired and frustrated he seemed when the camera dropped. As most of the important men finished, they were whisked away to other engagements. 

So, the room slowly emptied. Finally, it was just Steve, the handler, the photographer, and Peggy. 

"That's the end of it," said the man. He still hadn't introduced himself to Peggy. 

She rose from her out-of-the-way seat and moved closer to Steve. 

"Mr. Coates, this is Agent Carter by the way," he said. 

"Oh yes," Coates said without offering a handshake. "We met. Sorry about the scheduling change. Some important people wanted to be here for the announcement about our boy." He clapped Steve on the shoulder though it was an awkward gesture with Steve’s shoulder at his eye level. 

She felt a stab of annoyance at his phasing. Steve didn't belong to anyone. He wasn't the government's dancing monkey. Somehow she felt like the only one who could see it. It was why she had flown him to rescue the 107th. He was so capable and, in that case, the only one capable. 

"I hope the hotel will be suitable," he said when she only smiled at him. He then turned back to Steve and began talking about dinner options. 

Peggy had a moment of panic. Were they going to suffer this man's company for the rest of the evening? Steve looked a little panic-stricken too. He didn't want to spend any more time with Coates either. He wouldn't be able to work his way out of it without her help. 

"I'm so sorry," Peggy said, interrupting Coates slightly. "We already made plans." 

"Did we?" asked Steve. 

"The reservation, remember?"

"Reservation? Of course," he said, finally picking up the thread. "I don't think we can change it at this point." 

“Ah,” said Coates with no sign of a real reaction to the news. “I have ways of entertaining myself. Or rather the girls at the Prince Georges have a way of entertaining me." He winked at Steve. Peggy tried not to gag. “Maybe I shouldn’t mention that in front of the lady.” 

"We better get going. I'd like to change before we go and there isn't a lot of time," she said. 

"Takes work to look so beautiful?" said Coates. 

"Peggy comes by it naturally," Steve said rather hotly. 

He was defending her honor. She normally abhorred anyone fighting her battles for her, but she was charmed when Steve did it. The need to defend her came from a different place. She knew he didn't doubt her abilities, or that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Everything about Steve had a different quality about it. 

"Of course, of course," said Coates, back peddling. 

"Well, it was nice meeting you," said Peggy. She put on her brightest smile and holding out her hand. This time, he had to shake it. 

"You too," he said. 

Coates turned to Steve. "I'll be in touch in the morning about the next step. The circus had only just started. You'll be the headline of every newspaper come tomorrow." 

After a few more minutes of goodbyes, they finally detached themselves from Mr. Coates. Peggy waited in the hallway while Steve changed out of the uniform. He emerged dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt with a big canvas bag stretched into a circle. He looked more comfortable than she had seen him so far. He looked like Steve; it wasn’t any kind of uniform, a hospital gown, or stolen from the laundry. It’s what he chose for himself. 

They headed for the exit. 

"He's not staying at the hotel, is he?" Peggy asked, wrinkling her nose. 

"No, he's local," said Steve. 

"Good. I was hoping to get a drink at the bar. I don't want to risk seeing him again." 

"He's apparently very good at his job," he said. 

"That's always the excuse, isn't it?" 

"I guess it is. The circus has to end at some point." 

"It will," she said reassuringly. She hoped it would at least. 

He flattened down his hair, looking nervous. "So, I don't actually have anything planned for tonight." 

"Shh, Coates might hear you." 

"I didn't think of anything for after the press conference. I guess it's my job to plan the date—the dinner. Unless this is a date. Which it doesn't have to be. We're friends. Friends going to a restaurant. For dinner." 

"Steve, it's alright." 

"I'm not good at this sort of thing." He unnecessarily fixed his hair again. 

She loved this man. She loved he stumbled and flubbed his words. She loved he still did it even after everything he had been through. These thoughts send a broad smile across her face. Her cheeks were warm. She couldn't help herself. 

"Oh, Peggy, don't do that." 

"What?" she said, the smile vanishing. 

"Don't smile at me like that...if I'm not allowed to kiss you." 

He walked ahead of her and reached out to hold the door. She hesitated, wanting to say something, but not knowing what. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

A shriek interrupted the tense moment. Both Steve and Peggy started to leap into action until they realized who had made the noise. The women who had been listening to radio behind the desk were all standing at attention. One was even hiding behind another. Peggy guessed the one cowering had made the sound. 

Steve was blushing at their reaction to Captain America. 

"She didn't recognize you before. Please excuse her," said the woman who had shown Peggy to the conference. 

"You were listening?" Steve asked. 

"Everyone was listening, I bet," she said. "All the stations have been teasing big news for days." 

"I see." 

"Is there a mob outside?" Peggy asked. 

“Yes, ma’am. Your car is waiting in the garage. The photographers aren’t allowed down the ramp.” 

“Perfect. Thanks,” Peggy said and turned to leave. 

Steve didn’t follow. "I'm Steve," he said, reaching over the desk to offer a hand the woman who was still hiding. 

"I'm Lisa and this is Hannah." 

Lisa stepped aside so Hannah had nowhere to hide anymore. She extended a shaky hand. 

"Nice to meet you," she said in a whisper. She continued to hold his hand. 

"You too," said Steve. 

"Did you hear my speech?" 

Hannah nodded. 

"Whatcha think?" 

"It was good." 

"No higher praise. Thanks for your support." 

She nodded. 

"I need my hand back, Hannah." 

"Jesus Christ," she gasped and let go immediately. 

He smiled. "Goodbye, ladies. Have a good evening." 

He and Peggy headed for the door. 

"You too!" called Hannah when they were too far away. 

Peggy laughed once they were through the door into the musty stairwell. She looked back at Steve behind her and he wasn’t smiling. 

"It's started already," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

"No, they were sweet. It’s fine when people get shy. I understand that. You just have to be nice to them. Sometimes they get crazy."

"Are you referring to women, Captain Rogers?" asked Peggy. 

"I wasn't—I mean, um—just people. Men too. They—I just meant people." 

She laughed again and didn't hide it. 

"Carter, are you messing with me?" 

"Maybe." 

He looked at her in horror. 

"You make it too easy!" 

"I do not!" 

They exited into the equally as dingy parking garage and as expected the black town car was waiting. The driver hopped out to open the door for them. She slid into the back seat. Steve climbed in behind her. 

"To the hotel, please," she said to the driver and then added to Steve, "You do." 

She leaned back in the seat after speaking to the driver and without thinking rested her hand on his knee. She expected electricity; she expected a spark; she expected him to flinch. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was comfortable and intimate. He hardly seemed to notice. 

"Not," he said. 

Their banter was interrupted as the car left the safety of the garage. Despite the line of Marines, a swarm of photographers and reporters assaulted the car. They were all yelling and popping the bright lights in the windows. Peggy’s grip tightened on his knee. She was a spy; she worked for a secret organization. Her instincts told her to stay out of spotlight. He winced too. 

“I see what you mean,” she said. 

He didn’t answer. 

The car steadily pushed its way through the crowd. They got to the open road and picked up speed, leaving the reporters behind. She kept a watchful eye to make sure they weren’t followed. A few idiots chased them down the block, but were, of course, left in the dust. 

When they got to the hotel, Steve was out of the car and holding the door for her before the driver had even got out of his seat. 

"We still don't have a plan," Steve reminded her. 

"I will check into my room and then I'll meet you at the bar." 

"Okay." 

“Dress nicely.” 

"Okay." He was so agreeable. 

He waited with her while she checked in at the front desk and got a key. The hotel was grand, to say the least with more marble, large chandeliers, and coffered ceiling with intricate modeling. The clientele was all finely dressed. The bar was located on a second level balcony. They parted at the elevator. She got off on the floor above him where a bellhop showed her to her room. 

She’d gone to the office for half the day, so she'd had on a suit. Not exactly what she had in mind for their evening. She slipped a red dress over her hips. It was a deep burgundy color with short sleeves that sat just off her shoulders, low enough to tease, but high enough to cover her scars. There was a second layer of delicate lace the identical color to the rest of the dress. She had bought it months ago the last time she was in LA to see Angie. She hadn’t had a reason to wear it until now. 

She fixed her hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck and added a little more dramatic makeup. Peggy had always liked that she comfortable in both tactical gear and dresses. She loved she was both things. However, tonight was not the kind of night for Steve to be thinking about her in combat. She wanted that far from his mind. When she was satisfied, she went to find him. 

At the top of the steps to the balcony, she scanned the crowd. Half the people noticed her. A small smile played on her lips; she couldn't help it. She had chosen the outfit carefully, and it was doing its job. 

Steve was at the far end where the bar met the railing overlooking the lobby. An empty stool was in front of him. He had also changed out of the plaid and now had one a dark suit and tie. 

He was talking to the bartender when she caught his eye. From across the room, she could tell he had stopped mid-sentence. Her smile got a little bigger. She weaved her way through the tables until she reached him. He hopped off his stool. The bartender had gone by the time she reached him. 

"Everyone is staring," he said as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, "at how gorgeous you are." 

"Let 'em stare," she said. 

He offered her a hand to help her up onto the stool. She accepted and then he settled himself. Their knees were barely touching. It was such a tease. 

“You look nice, too,” she said. 

He flattened his hair again. “Thanks. They took me shopping.” He cleared his throat. “I hope the seats are okay. I didn’t want to be in the middle of things.” 

“It’s perfect.” 

The bartender, dressed in a fine shirt and vest, came back. "Can I get you folks anything?" 

"Two whiskeys," Peggy said. "Top shelf." 

"Yes, ma'am," he said and went to get them. 

“It doesn't really do anything for me," said Steve. 

Right. She had forgotten that. There was a detail she had forgotten about. She didn't think that was possible. 

"Well, I'm not going to drink alone," Peggy said. 

"I have a feeling that usually doesn't bother you," he said with a smile and a shake his head. Then, he looked horrified. "I didn't mean anything by that. Not that you're an alcoholic or anything. Jesus, that's not what I meant." 

"I’m known to pour myself drink upon arriving home from a long day," she said. "I know what you meant." 

"I'm not very good at this." He messed with his hair again. 

"Darling, you are not going to scare me off." 

"Are you sure? I think I'd be running by this point." 

"You're not so bad. You can relax." Her smile was back. 

The bartender brought their drinks and they clinked the clear crystal glasses gently. 

"To 1950," she said. 

"Here. Here." 

She took a slip. Liquid courage. 

"How are you adjusting?" she asked. 

“Everything is different but in mostly good ways. It feels a lot like blinking and missing the important parts. The end of the war is a bonus.” 

“You're handling it so well.”

“The worst part is everyone I talk to seems to be pretending I've been on vacation. Welcome back after two weeks on a beach!” He took a huge swig from his glass, finishing half of it. He made a face as it went down. 

“I don't think anyone knows what to say.” 

“Like I do?” he snapped. 

“I didn't mean that.”

“I know. I'm getting upset with the wrong person.” 

“You're allowed to get upset.” 

“I don't want to be upset. It just doesn't feel like the gift it is.” 

“You didn't ask for any of this. I can't even imagine.”

“I’m grateful to be alive. Really I am. I’m not even upset with them. I’m the idiot who jumped on the plane and crashed it into the ocean. That was me.” He sighed and threw back the rest of his drink. 

“It was the only option you had in that moment. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.” 

“Not you too,” he groaned. “I’ve heard that so many times.” 

She squeezed her lips together. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I know it’s a platitude, but it’s also true. Everyone has things they would do differently if they knew the outcome. I certainly do. You’re offered a thousand choices every day. You have to make them and you have to live by them. You saved lives that day. You can’t regret that?” 

“No, I don’t.”

At last, a little reason. 

“I’m still the world’s biggest idiot,” he added. 

“You’re a stubborn ass,” she said a little too quickly. 

He laughed, threw his head back and laughed. 

“Well, when you’re right, you’re right,” he said. 

“I’m always right.” She gave him a smug look. 

“No one else will talk to me like this. You’ve made it easier.” 

“That’s good to know. I’m really trying.” 

“You always make things easier.”

She smiled and looked away. 

“You’re doing it again,” he said. 

“What?” she said, though she had a guess. 

“That smile.” 

“Who says you are not allowed to kiss me?” 

He stared at her, clearly unable to respond to that. 

“Do you think I would get all dress up if I didn’t want that to happen?” she said. 

He cleared his throat. “You said you needed time.” 

She smiled at him. “I said I didn't want to move too fast.”

“I don't know what that means.” 

“I don't think it matters anymore. I kept telling myself a few more days or weeks wouldn’t matter. I don’t want to pressure you, but I also I don’t want to wait any longer to tell you how I feel. I’ve waited long enough. I’ve been a little afraid of what we could be. I’ve never been scared like this before and I’m tired of it. Steve, this is the chance we missed before. Let’s take it.”

His attention focused on her like a searchlight, sharp and more vivid than it had been before. He had understood her meaning. She looked at him fiercely. It felt like a now or never moment. Yes or no. He didn’t answer right away, and she almost quaked. 

He kissed her. He put both hands on either side of her face and pulled her in. They made the leap together. 

She was a little stunned at his sudden boldness and a little intoxicated by the taste of him. She had lived a lifetime in their stolen moments. It had been all she had had. This time, it was the promise, not a goodbye. A promise for the next few minutes, few hours, few years. She loved this man. 

“Take me dancing,” she said when they broke apart. 

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.” 

She closed her eyes, again plagued by old memories. They were his same words. She breathed out and opened her eyes again. “I get to actually teach you this time.” 

“It’s a different ending,” he said. 

She smiled though her eyes were wet. “I like this one better.” 

“Me too.” 

He got off his stool and took her with him. Holding hands, the weaved back through the tables. They were together. They were a couple. No one else knew the floodgate that had opened. 

They crossed the lobby and spilled out onto the street. The sun had set and nightlife of DC was waking up. Steve seemed to know where he was going. 

“I actually got the name of a place from the bartender,” he said. 

They set off but stopped at a little Italian restaurant along the way. They were wildly overdressed, but it somehow added to the fun. It caught the attention of the owner. He came over for a chat and Peggy told him they were going dancing. 

“Oh no, no, no,” he said seriously after Steve told him where they were heading. “There’s a better place. Better band.” 

They listened carefully to the new directions and thanked the owner. He sent over a slice of chocolate cake and didn’t charge them for it. Steve let her eat most of it. 

When they finished their meal, they headed off again but towards the new club. 

“He didn’t recognize me,” Steve said. 

She pulled his arm over her shoulders. “You look different without the shield.” 

“I’m trying to be serious.” 

She had had too much wine at dinner to be too serious. She tried to focus. “Okay, we’re being serious.” 

“I’ll get recognized.” 

“You had the mask on for the photo shoots and being out of context helps. That’s a trick I use when I’m working. You’d be surprised what people don’t notice.” 

“I don’t think keeping my head down with be enough. We’re not going to be able to just walk into a restaurant after the news really breaks.” 

She smiled; she couldn’t help it. It had nothing to do with the present conversation. 

He noticed. “What?” 

“I’m sorry. We’re being serious. I’m listening.” 

“What are you smiling about?” 

She bit her lip. “You said we. You said ‘we’re not going to be able to walk into a restaurant.’”

“Oh.” 

“I liked the way it sounds. But I was listening. Keep going.” 

“You’re not paying attention.” He was smiling again. 

“No, I am. Keep going.”

He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow.” 

“We,” she repeated. 

“You’re hopeless.” His smile growing bigger. 

She was just in love. 

A door opened down the block and a stream of music poured out. 

“We found it. I think,” he said. 

She slipped out from under his arm and pulled him along by his hand. The scene may have changed, but Peggy had still been waiting five years for this.


	5. Chapter 5

The club wasn't fancy. In fact, Peggy had her doubts the operators had full permission to be running such a place. It was a grand, old theater. She and Steve had to push through the people surrounding the bar where refreshments would have been served during intermission, to get to the main room. All the seats had been pulled up where the dancing was happening. The box seats along the sides were filled with tables with men and women leaning on either side. A deep red curtain still hung behind the band, but it was torn and dusty. A grand staircase with two large men standing guard at the very top suggest that it might lead to a private area in the balcony. It was crowded and loud. The room was filled with music, voices, a smoky haze of cigarettes and the glitter of women's jewelry. 

She looked over at Steve, so sure he would hate it. He smiled back, unsure but open. 

"Ready?" she asked. 

"We need something slower." 

"Another drink?" She pointed back towards the bar. He nodded, and she pushed into the crowd. He followed until he got to a booth where they could see the dancing. 

One sweet smile to get the bartender's attention, and she ordered two more whiskeys. 

"Hey gorgeous," said a man sitting on the stool next to her. 

She gave him a sidelong glance. He wasn't a complete disaster in terms of looks, but he had been sitting at the bar too long. She didn't answer. 

"Hey, I gave you a compliment," he said. 

"I'm just here to get my drinks." She added emphasis to the last word, hoping he would get the hint she was with someone. 

"We can have a little chat while you wait," he answered, not getting it the hint. 

"Do you see that tall gentleman over there?" She pointed to where Steve was waiting. He was watching the dancing. 

The man didn't answer, but he was sizing Steve up. "Isn't that Cap—"

She cut him off before he could finish the thought. "Whom the second drink is for? Yes."

"Can't be much of a gentleman if he's letting his lady pay for the drinks. I'd treat you like a real lady. Come over here and I'll show you." 

He reached for her arm, but she knocked his hand away. "I'll ask you not to touch me." 

"C'mon baby, stay awhile. Here, wanna a cigarette?" He offered a half-filled pack. She pulled one out of the box and pinched it between her lips. "See, a little common ground at last."

She snorted. "I doubt we'll find anymore." 

She shouldn't bait him, but the target was too easy. He was drunk enough to do something and he did. He grabbed for her again. 

While she wasn't exactly sober, she was still more capable than he was. She took his wrist and twisted. He slipped sideways off the stool with the rotation of his entire body. He hit the floor with a loud thump. A few people looked around, staring at the man on the floor. One of the security guards hustled from his post in front of the stairs. The man on the floor was trying to scramble up but couldn't find good purchase in his inebriated state. 

He was upright by the time security arrived. The bouncer put a large hand on the man's chest to stop him from doing anything else. The bartender returned with her whiskeys at the same moment. 

"I asked him not to touch me," she said, batting innocent eyes at the hulking security guard. 

Without a word, the guard picked the man up by the back of his neck and headed for the exit. Peggy put the money for the drinks with a generous tip on the counter. 

"Thanks," she said, as if nothing had happened, and took the drinks back to Steve. 

It was so loud he had completely missed the altercation. He saw the cigarette though and pulled out a matchbook from his jacket. The name of the Italian restaurant where they had just had dinner printed on the front. 

"I didn't know you smoked," he said. 

She waved away the matches and stuck the cigarette behind her ear. "I don't. Not anymore at least. Some man at the bar thought he could buy me with a cigarette so I took him for all he was worth." 

"Spoilers of war," he suggested. 

"Teaching an idiot a lesson," she said. "He got himself kicked out, less one cigarette, and has nothing to show for it. He heard me order two drinks." 

"I never saw the appeal of smoking," he said. 

"We used to do it in school because it was against the rules." 

"That doesn't surprise me." 

She shoved his arm. 

She finished her drink while he still nursed his. The conversation was easy, so it took her a while to realize he was stalling. 

"You either finish that or I will," she said. 

"I wish it was helping," he said mournfully. 

"No one is paying any attention except me." 

"Who do you think I'm scared I'm going to embarrass myself in front of?"

She laughed. "You have nothing to worry about. I already know what a fool you can be." 

"Hey!" 

She picked up his glass and drained the last of it. "C'mon. No more stalling." 

She took him by the hand again and pull him onto the dance floor. They stayed off to the side and a little to the back. The band cooperated and a slower song started. 

She positioned his hand on the small of her back and held the other out. She swayed to the music, and he followed. He had rhythm, a good first step. He wasn't nearly as bad as he thought he would be. He wasn't ready for the waltz or really any kind of dance requiring choreography, but he managed to work out how to twirl her after a few songs. There was no stepping on toes, but a lot of laughing. 

The rest of the room melted away until it was just the two of them and the music. Nothing else matter. The night could last forever. It could go on like this for the rest of her life and she would probably be happy. Five years too late and a lot of heartache, but even that didn't bother her that much anymore. 

She felt dizzy and it had nothing to do with the spinning. It was him. It was his arms around her and his touch. She had been here before and she had always woken up alone. 

"Is this real?" she asked. 

"It feels real." He rested his forehead against hers. 

She closed her eyes. "What's to say this isn't a dream?" 

"I'll say it's not a dream. I'm here," he said. 

"I need to check. This doesn't happen outside of fairytales." 

"People fall in love all the time, don't they?" 

Her heart skipped at the word love. She open her eyes and pulled back a little so she could see his face. "They don't get second chances like this."

"You know," he said quietly. "You keep talking about second chances, but it feels like the first chance for me. It still feels like they rescued me just after I went into the water. It doesn't make it any less incredible, though. Why would someone like you pick someone like me?" 

"Besides you're Captain America?" she said with a smile. 

"I guess it has its perks," he said heavily. 

"Darling, I'm teasing you again. This has nothing to do with that. I liked for the very moment I saw you." 

"The moment?" he said in confusion. 

"I walked up to the row of recruits and you were two feet shorter than everyone else."

"I think two feet is a bit much." 

She smiled again. "Either way, you stood out."

"You mean you were wondering what that shrimp was doing there?" 

"Not at all! I thought you were terribly brave from day one. Everyone expected those meatheads to get the first serum test. No one counted on you. I knew at least we'd get along because no one ever counted on me either. It was obvious you had already had to fight just to be there. Like me." 

"I only wanted to do my duty like everybody else." 

"As did I. I knew you would understand." 

"You decked a guy. On the first day. Do you remember?" 

She smirked at herself. "Yes. Hodge."

"You hit him and then looked around like, 'Oops, it slipped.'"

She laughed again, and he squeezed her tighter. "He deserved it if I recall." 

"He did. I noticed you then. You scared the hell out of me, but I thought, 'Stick with her and she'll get you through this.' And you have. Every step of the way."

He spun her away from him in time with the music. He really wasn’t a bad dancer. 

"It's been a lot, hasn't it?" she said as she tucked against him again. 

"A lot of years of fighting. A lot of good friends gone. A lot of things that don't make a lot of sense." He smiled at her like he was trying to play it off as a joke. She knew better. 

She sighed. "Yes, but you can't think of it like that." 

"How should I think about it? I'm here—they're not." 

"I remember how it felt. It's a million what ifs and it will only drive you crazy. Be here with me." 

She rested against his chest again. They danced without saying anything for the rest of the song. In this moment, in his arms, she felt immeasurably safe and content. This was where she was supposed to be. Their life had been interrupted. There was a five-year gap, but this was right. 

"Alright, alright, alright," said the singer into her microphone. "One more slow one for you lovers and then we'll pick up the pace again. If you've been waiting to ask a special someone to dance, this is your chance." 

The music swelled in time with her vocals. 

"Peggy?" he said. 

"Yes, my darling?"

"Marry me?" 

"What?" She breathed in sharply and pulled back. She couldn't have possibly heard him correctly, but she had. There was no mistaking it. Everything stopped around her. She couldn't hear the music anymore. 

"I know it's crazy. If you count the number of days we've known each other, it's not a lot. But I love you. We have fought side by side through so much. You've fought so hard to bring me here. I want to be with you forever." 

"Steve." She could only breathe his name. 

Her thoughts went flying. She had never wanted to be a wife before. She wanted love, a partner, but the idea of ownership in that way had never appealed to her before. She didn't want to belong to anyone. She belonged to herself. When the question had come from Steve, it didn't feel like giving a part of herself away. It felt like making something new. Making a family. Whatever might come, they would be together. 

"I want to dance with you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?" 

Tears filled her eyes. She covered her mouth with a hand. She nodded, unable to find the words. 

"Really?" He was as disbelieving as she had been. 

She dropped her hand. "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!"

He put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her even closer, impossibly close. He leaned down to her kiss. It was like opening a door, an exploration. Everything about him was new and familiar. Lips, tongues, teeth, noses, bodies hot and ready, and still separated by too many layers of clothing. She drank him in, still forgetting there were other people in the room. 

They broke apart, savoring the moment, reeling from the electricity, and panting slightly. It was like a paper cut with the pain disproportionate to the size of the injury, except this was all pleasure. One more kiss that showed her exactly what a kiss should be. It was so much more than lips and faces and hands. It was heartbeats and longing and the taste of whiskey and the smell of the starch in his collar. 

"Really?" he asked again. "I wish I had a ring or something. You don't think it's insane?" 

"I am sure and it is insane, but I don't care." 

"We're getting married," he said with the dumbest grin on his face. 

"I love you," she said. 

"We're getting married," he repeated. He said it again a little louder. 

A few people in the crowd close by looked around. 

She was grinning too, unable to stop. "You're making a scene." 

"I don't care." 

"I didn't think you'd want to be recognized." 

"I don't care." 

"Well, I do. Let it be ours and ours alone for a little while. I don't want anyone else opinions or judgments. I don't want the press to know. I want you and me." 

"A secret engagement?" 

"A torrid affair. A secret marriage. Let's do it soon."

"You don't want a big wedding, flowers, cake, and all that?" 

"I just want you." 

She kissed him again, but gently. Only a tease. She reached up to whisper in his ear, "Let's get out of here." 

They slipped through the other dancers towards the exit. There was a mass of people by the door, but they were too wrapped up in each other to noticed why. They stepped back out into the night and were immediately set upon. 

"It's him!" someone yelled. 

The flashes from the cameras were blinding. Steve threw up his arms to shield his face and pushed Peggy behind him. There was no car or tinted windows to protect them now. 

"Captain Rogers!" 

"Over here!" 

"Captain America!" 

"Look this way!" 

"Captain Rogers!" 

"How is feel to be back?" 

"Captain America!" 

"What's the biggest difference?" 

"Captain Rogers!" 

"Who's the girl?" 

Peggy pulled on Steve's arm, urging him to follow her back inside. They should go back into the club and call a car service or the Marines. 

A photographer blocked their way. He stuck his camera inches from Steve's face and snapped a photo. The flash went off. 

Steve threw up a protective arm and batted the camera away. However, the strap was still around the photographer's neck. What might have been a shove from a normal man had all the serum's might behind it. The man went flying, propelled by the camera strap. He was thrown to ground and into two other photographers who all toppled like dominos. 

The yells of the rest of the people changed in an instant. It sounded something like fear. He looked around wildly, more like a trapped animal. 

"Steve!" Peggy's voice cut through the rest. 

"I didn't mean to," he said to her and then louder to the rest of the crowd. 

They seemed to shrink back as he moved forward. She knew it was to help the men up, but they cowered. 

Peggy leaped forward too. "Don't be idiots. No harm done. A few scraps at most. The photographers were far too close." 

"Miss, what's your name?" asked the man she was pulling to his feet. 

She let go, and he fell back down. Reports were always looking for an angle. 

"Clear off. All of you! Just leave us alone," she yelled. 

She properly scanned the flock of vultures for the first time. Off to the side, she saw a familiar face. The man from the bar waved. 

She grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him back inside. A crowd had gathered on the other side of the door too. The security guards were already clearing a path. A little man in an expertly tailored suit was following in their wake. 

"Sir, ma'am, I'm Mr. Beauford. I'm the manager."

"Is there somewhere private?" asked Peggy. 

"Yes, of course. This way," he said with a half bow. 

They followed him up the stairs and into what looked like his office. 

"First," said Mr. Beauford. "I'd like to welcome you to my establishment. Had I known Captain America would be here, I would have made special arrangements." 

"It wasn't necessary. It's Steve, by the way," said Steve, extending his hand. "And this is Peggy." 

After Beauford shook Steve's hand, he took Peggy's and kissed the back of it. "Pleasure." 

"We've had a wonderful evening, but I think it's time for us to go," said Peggy. 

"Yes, of course," said Beauford. "I'll see what security can do." 

"May we use the phone to call for a car?" Peggy pointed to the one on the desk. 

"Yes, of course." He bustled off. 

There was an overstuffed leather couch against one of the wall and Steve collapsed onto it as soon as they were alone. "This has gotten out of hand. I have to call Coates." 

"Why? Just call a car." 

"These things need to be managed. That's what he's for." He sighed heavily. "How'd they find us?" 

She sat down next to him. "I have an idea. The man who was bothering me at the bar might have recognized you." 

"Jesus, Peggy! What did you do to him? We have to be so careful." 

The word 'we' didn't sound like we. It sounded like you. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" she said dangerously. 

"Nothing," he said and stood up suddenly. 

She had been leaning closer and his shoulder crashed into her chin. Her teeth clashed together, and the crack seemed to echo in her head. She was thrown back against the arm of the couch. She gasped more out of surprise than pain though it did hurt and probably bruise. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he said as he dove towards her again. 

But she put up a hand to slow him, massaging her jaw with the other. 

"It's fine. It was an accident." 

"Do you see what I mean?" 

She did not see what he meant. "It was an accident," she repeated. "No damage done. The photographer will be fine too. He was too close. I don't know what you are getting so worked up about." 

He turned away from her and walked to the desk. He rested his fists on the top. "Maybe you should go. Sneak out the back." 

"I'm not leaving you here." 

"It's best. I was foolish. Keep your head down like you said." 

For the second time during the conversation, his words meant more than he was saying. "Now what does that mean?" she said. Her voice already choked. 

"I'm saying you should go. I'm saying I was a fool. You can't live like this. It's not fair to ask you." 

"We were happy. An hour ago everything was perfect. Don't—don't take that away." She got up and hugged him from behind. "I love you." 

"That has nothing to do with it. I hurt you. I hurt the photographer. It's not safe." 

She let go. "You're hurting me more right now." 

"I'm sorry. It's another thing to add to the list of the things I've done wrong." 

"Who's keeping score? Are you listening? None of that matters."

"I can't always control myself. I should've known I can't have this kind of life anymore. I'm a weapon now. I have wanted this for so long, but I don't think it's been an option since the moment I stepping into that pod. This is the beginning—just the first sign." 

Her anger flared. He could be so thoughtless; he could be such an idiot. 

"So, we're better off alone? Is that it?" she said. "I might not have been pumped full of serum, but I had been there for every step, for every mission and more. If you are a weapon, what am I? I chose this. If you're not fit for society, neither am I. Am I not allowed to have a life outside the deeds I've done? Is asking for someone to love too much?" 

"This isn't about you. I'm the anomaly. I don't know what I am." He still won't look at her. "You were right. It is a fairytale. You deserve something real. Something safe. You're in harms way with me. I was selfish to ask you. Peggy, we can stop this before it gets any farther. Go back to your life." 

"Don't you dare, Rogers. I won't have it. I know what I signed up for. I know what my life would be like." 

"You really don't." 

"Our life would be unconventional. Neither of us would ever be home. We would be in constant danger. Both of us. Because of our work. Not because of you. I will not cook and clean for you and be your little wife. We'd had to deal with the public. I get it." 

"Unconventional doesn't cover. I was being selfish. I was—" 

"No," she said as the tears built. Why did she always have to cry when she was upset? "If you don't want to go through with this, fine. But do not give me some cockamamie story about it being for my feelings." 

"You don't understand."

"Talk to me. Steve, please." 

"I can't." 

"You can. You always can." 

"Just go." He wouldn't even look at her. He still had his back to her. 

She made a frustrated noise. "I understand better than you think. I know what loss feels like. I know what it's like to be different. I know as well as you do what it's like to be at fault. If you would take a few minutes to get your head out of your ass and talk to me. You'll run headlong into a spray of bullets, but this you run away from? Because this is certainly you running. You want to be miserable and lonely, fine. Live in the past, fine! But do not try to pretend like you are doing me a favor."

She was shaking with anger and heartbreak. The tears flowed down her cheeks, but her voice was steady. 

He turned, lunged forward, and kissed her. He took her face in both his hands and pressed his lips to hers. It was rough and passionate and very unlike Steve. It was hunger and longing and sacrifice. She put both palms on his chest and shoved him as hard as she could. 

"No," she said. "You don't get it both ways."

There was a knock at the door and it opened before either of them could say wait. Beauford stopped on the threshold when he saw the scene in front of him. 

"I'm terribly sorry," he said. "I'm interrupting." 

"No," said Steve firmly. "She's leaving." 

Peggy made another frustrated noise and threw up her arm. He was such an idiot. He didn't have a clue. It wasn't her job to teach him. 

So, she stormed past Beaufort. She left and Steve let her go. She had promised she would do what he wanted. He set the pace. If he didn't want her, she would leave. 

She used her skills to disappear in the crowd. Even in an outfit meant to draw attention and the tears streaking her cheeks, she walked out the front entrance without notice. The photographers had been pushed back to the opposite side of the street. A police car was pulling up. 

She walked a few blocks over to catch a taxi. 

"What's going on over there?" asked the driver as they doubled back to avoid a one-way street. 

"No idea," she said. 

****

Peggy woke the next morning feeling miserable. She was alone in a cold bed she had been intending to share. She was a little hungover and very unsure again. She had had a few blissful hours where she knew where she stood with Steve. She had been engaged to him for about an hour. 

Everything had gone to ruins, and she had let it. She had walked away. He was pushing her away, and she had let him. He hadn't even tried that hard, and she had just left. God, they were both so stubborn. Two brick walls would have communicated better last night. 

She buried her face in the pillow. Upset with herself and with him and with that arsehole photographer. 

It was then she felt the sore spot on her jawline. She propped herself up an elbow and felt around the edges of what she could guess was a healthy bruise. She should have iced it before going to sleep. 

She struggled out of bed and into the bathroom. She faced herself in the mirror. Sure enough, a black and blue mark bloomed under her chin and crept up onto her cheek. 

"Bloody Nora," she said under her breath to the reflection. 

She dressed and did what she could to the bruise. It was a far cry from her look last night. She knew a few tricks to cover up a bruise with makeup. She could make it less noticeable. It was certainly not the worse injury she had ever had—it wasn't even the worse bruise—but Steve wouldn’t forgive himself. It wouldn’t help her convince him he was being an idiot. She had to try. 

She went to his room first. She stood outside his room and knocked until she got a funny look from one too many passing neighbors. Her faced flushed. He either wasn't there or was avoiding her. 

Her next stop was the lobby. She didn’t bother having the front desk call. It would be too obvious it was more attempts by her. She approached the uniformed man at the front door. 

"Morning," he said smile. "How may I help you?" 

"Hello, I was wondering if you had seen," she had to pause a moment to remember the alias they had given him, "Mr. Stevens this morning." 

"I can't give out information about the other guests. I'm sorry, miss." He winked at her; he knew who Roger Stevens was really Steve Rogers. 

"Yes, of course." Peggy put on her saddest face, not a far stretch at the moment. "We seem to have gotten our timetables confused. We were supposed to have breakfast. But I understand. I'll wait a little longer." She started to walk away. 

"Oh come back," he said, falling for the ruse hook line and sinker as the Americans said. "Can't have such a pretty thing being so sad. Between you and me, I ordered a car for him earlier." 

"How much earlier?" 

"Hours, miss." 

"Okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it." 

"I wouldn't leave a lady like you behind. I'll tell you that right now." 

"Like I said, he was probably confused. You know how men are." She smiled. 

"I supposed I do." 

"Thanks again." 

She really did walk away to keep him from saying anything else. 

So, Steve had left. To go where was the question. Mostly likely to meet with Coates and have his image managed or whatever it was. There was still a possibility he had gone somewhere on this own. If that was the case, she couldn't even begin to guess where. She used to always know. She could always find the places he squirreled himself away in whether they were on bases or camped somewhere or bombed out cities. Colonel Phillips would even come to her. 

"Find the good Captain!" he'd bark when he'd get frustrated. 

She didn't know anymore. There were no stacks of supplies or empty backs of supply trucks or secondary communication tents in Washington DC. There was an entire city and a man she was realizing she still didn't know everything about. 

She could only wait for him. He hadn't checked out; he have to come back at some point. She would plant herself in the lobby and wait for him. 

She could have breakfast first, though. It was late and if she sat along the railing like they had last night, she could still watch the lobby. She settled there and ordered eggs and sausage, the closest she could get to a proper English fry-up, and a large cup of strong coffee. 

Her plate was empty when she saw Coates marching through the doors. She casually looked away so he couldn't see her face. He was not someone she wanted to talk to, even if he was also mostly likely to provide her with answers. He had also cleaned up the mess last night and would likely have something to say about that. 

When she risked a second look, he was heading towards to the second level where she sat. She continued to pretend not to notice him until he stood directly in front of her and hurled a newspaper onto the table, rattling the silverware. 

"I suppose I have you to thank for this, Miss Peggy," he said loudly. 

The paper was folded so all she was a large picture of Captain America from the press conference under the headline 'ALIVE' in fat, black letters. Though, there must be something about her and Steve's night out if Coates was shouting. 

"Agent," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. 

"Excuse me?" 

"It's Agent Carter. If I'm going to be berated, you can at least use the correct address." 

"Do you how much damage you could've caused, Agent Carter?" he sneered. "He's under strict orders to stay out of sight for this very reason." 

"We had a night out and things got a bit out of hand." It was the mildest way to put it. She knew what had been damaged, and it was breaking her heart, but she wouldn't let Coates see. She was on the verge of panic but tried to seem casual. 

Coates snatched the newspaper and flipped it over. A photo of her and Steve exiting the club stared up at her. She was mostly obscured behind his broad shoulders, but he looked angry with an arm thrown up in protest. The caption under the photo read, 'Captain Rogers spotted out on the town with mystery woman hours after announcement.' 

She glanced up at Coates when she was finished reading. 

"Phone call at one o'clock in the morning, car and security escort dispatched, and me spinning ever line I know to keep him attacking a photographer out of the news." 

"He didn't attack anyone. It was an accident. And you are the one telling everyone about it now," she said. His voice was still raised. 

"What exactly is your relationship with Rogers?" 

She stood up to face him, standing inches away from him. "That is none of your business." 

"It is my business when it impacts what I am trying to do. You are making my job harder." 

"He is not your government's dancing monkey. He's not a prize to parade around like you've won something. He's a person, who is allowed to go dancing with a friend."

"A friend? So, he's not currently curled in your bed?" 

She pulled back to slap him across the face. He had no right. It didn't matter that was where she wished Steve was with her wrapped in his arms. She thought of it as love; Coates was saying it like whore. She wouldn't be insulted, and she was too emotionally raw to remember to use her words. 

Someone caught her wrist, but she yanked her arm away from the grasp at once and spun to face whoever had interrupted. It was Steve. He seemed furious and for a wild moment she thought the anger was directed at her. He immediately looked over her head at Coates. 

"You're fired. Get out of my sight," Steve ordered. 

"You can't," Coates said as the color drained from his cheeks. "You didn't hire me." 

"I'm refusing to work with you," Steve said. "I appreciate your work last night, but I won't listen to you insult someone like that, especially someone I care so much about." 

"You can't. We have—there's still fallout from the incident last night." 

"I don't care. I'm done with you." 

He put a hand on the small of Peggy's back and steered her away, leaving Coates behind. 

"Steve," Peggy started when they reached the lower level. 

His hand dropped to his side. "Not here." 

She nodded and followed him outside. The hotel was very close to the monuments and the river and that was where they headed. It was a beautiful day with sunshine and a soft breeze, especially by the water. 

Peggy hardly noticed. She was so focused on him. He was still upset, more marching than walking, and fuming, but he wasn't saying anything. She could only try to keep up while her mind raced with all her apologies and ways of trying to make him understand. 

He stopped abruptly spun on the spot. “I can’t believe he just said that you to. For weeks, I’ve been listening to his awful comments, but that… that… I should’ve let you hit him. I should’ve hit him.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t. That wouldn’t have helped.” 

“That ass!” 

“I know. He’s paying for it now. He’ll lose his job.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to help people, not pose for pictures. I’m done dancing for them.” 

“Then don’t.” 

“It’s not that simple, Carter.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m a soldier. I have to do what they say.” 

“You’ve bloody done enough for them.” 

He groaned a little and collapsed onto a bench along the path. She moved closer and he scooted over to give her room so she could join him. 

"I want to go home. I haven’t been back to Brooklyn yet.” He pointed towards the river. “That should be the East River, but it’s as good as I can get. I've been coming to the park a lot to get some peace and—" He stopped suddenly. 

"What?" she asked, looking around to see what might have caught his attention, ready to reach for the small pistol hidden in her handbag. 

He gingerly took her face, turning her chin towards the light. He was looking at the bruise. 

"Oh, Peggy," he said in almost a whisper. 

Just as gently, she pulled his hand away but held onto it. Their fingers laced together again. "It was an accident." 

"That's almost worse. I did it without meaning to." 

"It was the way I was bumped. It has nothing to do with your strength. You didn't know I was leaning so closely. I'm fine. I've had much worse." 

"I know. I was there." 

"Then you know I can handle it." 

He sighed. "The point is you shouldn't have to. I chose a dumb time to bring it up, especially after what I asked. I should’ve thought about it more. It's still true. It doesn't change that I don't know what am I." 

"I know what you are," she said. "I've always known. You're a brave man and the love of my life." 

"I wish I wasn't." 

"Which point?" 

"Both. You wouldn't be here if I was less pigheaded. You’d say brave." 

"You keep making it sound like you've trapped me in some way. I am here of my own free will. I don't want my old life—I didn't have you in my old life. Nothing in the world would make me go back to that. I made the choice."

He gave her a long look. He wouldn't fight her on that. She hadn't fought him when he told her it was his decision to go into the ice. They had come a long way together and trusted each other's choices. 

He seemed to crumble and rested his forehead against her shoulder. He didn't need to say anything for her to know how tired he was. She wanted to take him home right now. Back to Brooklyn and away from all this. She leaned her cheek on his head and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"I love you too. I'm sorry," he said. 

"Me too. I shouldn't have left." 

"I didn't mean half of what I said." 

"I know." 

"But maybe it was good we got some space. I gave me time to think. It’s still selfish, but I realized I didn’t want to be without you. I didn’t sleep knowing you were so close."

“You should’ve called. You can always call.” 

“I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me. I was an idiot.”

“You were, but I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior.” 

"Gosh, let's not fight again," he said. 

"Steve, I can't make that promise." 

He sat up, looking concerned again. 

"We are about as stubborn as they come," she said with a smile. "This isn't our first fight and it won't be our last." 

"You didn't shoot at me this time." 

"You had your shield." 

"It was untested!" 

One of her soft smiles stopped the banter. "I'm not naive enough to think our life will be perfect. The second chance is our fairytale. The rest is real. I'm sure we'll argue again, but I can promise I'll never walk out. That was me giving up. We have to remember this is special. It's worth holding onto."

"You're amazing, you know? You put up with so much." 

She smiled again. "I guess you put up with a lot too." 

"But you have easier options. I’ve been stuck on you for years." 

"No. It's always been you. There was making do without you for awhile. But you're the only choice." 

"Was there… was there ever anyone else?" he asked as if he didn't want to know the answer. 

"Yes, but no one worth sacrificing for. I didn't want to give anything up to be with them. I'd happily give you the world." 

"You shouldn't have to sacrifice anything." 

"Steve, I think that's what love is. You give something to your partner and hope they give you something back. You have my heart—there's no giving that back." 

He leaned forward to kiss her. She closed her eyes. There was another promise in his kiss. She had his heart too. 

She felt him fumbling around in his pocket. She opened her eyes again and pulled back. He was taking a small, black box out. 

"What's that?" she asked. 

"Where I was all morning in the hopes you would forgive me for being such an idiot." 

She touched his cheek for a moment though her attention was still fixed on the box. 

"I had to dig through most of the boxes in my storage unit. I was lucky they moved my stuff in DC. They were my mom's. She wanted to sell them when things got bad, but my dad wouldn't let her. They've been in the family for awhile and they're yours now if you still want them. Or maybe we should just wait. Give it more time like you said. Maybe that's best." 

"Open it," she said gently. "And ask me again." 

He opened the box to reveal two rings. The engagement ring was set in silver with a larger diamond surrounded by smaller ones in a pattern that suggested something floral. The wedding band, also in silver, was engraved in the same pattern so delicate it was hard to imagine how the creator had done it. It was the most stunning pair she had ever seen because they were beautiful, but also because they had belonged to Sarah and now because Steve was giving them to her. 

"They're extraordinary," she said, almost in a whisper. 

"I'm glad you like them." He was staring at the rings too and started to pull them from the box. 

"Just the diamond one," she said with a small laugh. 

He blushed a little. "Right." 

"Ask me again," she said. “And say it like you did last night.” 

He looked up at her. "I want to dance with you forever. Will you marry me?" 

She knew what he was going to say. She knew it was the question he would ask, and she knew what her answer would be. Still, when she heard the words her eyes brimmed with happy tears. She nodded. "Yes, I will." 

He slipped the ring onto a finger on her left hand and kissed her again.


End file.
